Christmas Memories

Thoughts of Christmas and memories of those bygone days…recollections of my mother’s “Black Fruitcake” began to creep into my head and tease my taste buds.  I’ve searched all her old cookbooks and never been able to identify her secret formula.  So with some input from my Aunt, a retired home economics teacher, and my sister, I decided to make another attempt at duplicating the lost recipe.  Returning from the store with dark brown sugar, black strap molasses and a plethora of ingredients from the candied fruit section…I plumped up the raisins in a solution of #12 George Dickel’s Tennessee sour mash. 

After an overnight soak…I began to mix and blend the entire concoction of ingredients until it resembled the stuff they refer to as 3500 PSI ready mix.  I popped it into a 300-degree oven and waited for three hours. 

I recall the agonizing process my mother used to doctor this special delicacy.  It would start before Thanksgiving and last until Christmas.  She sealed the cake in a can wrapped in a dishtowel soaked in spirits.  Every few days she would open the can and moisten the towel with a jigger of secret sauce.  No one was ever allowed to partake, sample or in any way test the product until we had celebrated the birth of the Christ child.  The anticipation was intense.  I was too young to understand the meaning of the season.  But it was a lesson in waiting. 

Now my dilemma is…do I go though the same agonizing process of saturating the cake with George’s #12 or do I do the taste test now?
I think in need a little Christmas spirit now.

Merry Christmas everybody.  May Christ be the light of your life.  Peace and Joy to all.

Sit With Jesus

I sat with Jesus a little while.

Concerned about my up-coming trial

For living a life in virtual denial

Filled with deceit, cunning and guile.

I was there when that ole cock crowed.

I’ve traveled down that dead-end road.

Time after time, my back I bowed.

But Jesus, your grace always bestowed.

I sat with Jesus a little while.

He calmed my fears and made me smile.

Amen

The Land Of Plenty

After I left the morning meeting of old men who sit drinking coffee, bemoaning the current state of affairs and whimsically recalling the “good old days”, my survival instinct kicked in.  Being keenly aware of my wife’s aversion to grocery shopping, I decided to stop at HEB…besides I love the smell of fresh baked bread and figured they might have some blueberry muffins or maybe some oatmeal raisin cookies that I’m not allowed to eat.  As I walked in the store and pervade the plethora of produce I couldn’t help but think how blessed am I to live in this land of plenty, I have it all…aisle after aisle of all things eatable.  It just doesn’t get any better that this.  As I loaded up on butter, bacon and Blue Bell…I recalled this morning reading from the book of Job as he complained to God…”Perish the day on which I was born”.  Job had it all then God allowed it to all be taken away. 

Thank you; Lord, for all you have given me.  Please give me the courage to always praise your name no matter what happens. 

P.S.

Dear Lord Jesus, please bless Blue Bell.

Protect them from evil and Listeria.

For that would even test Job’s patients.

Amen.

The Passing Years

As I face my fears of the passing years

More and more I am brought to tears

I see my elders in sharp decline

And know their fate will soon be mine

Gone are the days of carefree sublime

And all the nonsense of another time

Then I emerge from a cloud of madness

And all my sadness turns to gladness

The role in clover is not yet over

‘Tis not the ending, but the beginning

For the news is good when it’s understood

Of what it means nailed to the wood

For it’s not about me that makes the glee

He paid the fee, He set me free

I have nothing to offer, nothing to say

But thank you, Lord, You saved the day.

Amen.

My Pen Is Dry

My pen has dried, my brain it’s fried

There is no ink, I cannot think

The words are gone, the rhyme is wrong

I want to write, but it’s such a fight

I say a prayer and you meet me there

I always knew you would come thru

You never fail when I am frail

All because you took that nail

Thank you, Lord you paid the bail.

Amen

Jobs

The diesel engine clattered and clanked as I bumped and bounced down the dusty dirt road on the way to a job…a job out in the country far away from all the people, the traffic, and the hustle and bustle of the city.      

I thought to myself what a great job have I.  Working with stuff not people.  Electrical stuff…mechanical stuff…working with stuff requires no social shills. Stuff does not talk back; stuff does not bleed out and die.  Well, some times it dies but you just replace it.

I don’t like dealing with people and their problems.  I have not the patience nor the social skills and no desire to interact with crazy people.  

Then I thought of God…God and his job.  What a terrible job.  He has to take care of all the peoples.  He has to deal with all the people who will not listen, who will not follow instructions, and who refuse to do what is in their own best interest.  The hardest part of his job is that he chooses to love them…love us.  He loves all of us…crazy or not.

So…thank you, God, for giving me the skills to do this job, a job I like.  And thank you for always taking care of me.

Dear Lord God,

Often times when things turn crappy

I think of You and it makes me happy.

So now I'll spend a bit of time

To make for You a foolish rhyme.

Sometimes I pretend I’m a saint

But you, Lord,  know a saint I ain’t.

I can’t repay the debt I owe

For this I'm for sure You truly know.

So I offer up this meager prayer

Knowing that it isn’t fair.

All You’ve done and given me.

And never once have charged a fee.

Amen.

A Toast

A day late and a dollar short…I never have the words to say in a timely fashion…so here is my toast the day after having dinner with my Pastor.

Here’s to life and how to live it

Here’s to love and how to give it

Here’s to you who show us how

Here’s to you who do it now.

For life is short and getting shorter

All the reason to live it smarter

So now’s the time to really live

Now’s the time to really give.

I raise my glass in a feeble toast

To you who make me smile the most

Here’s to you this very day

May God bless you in every way.

To Father Dan Morales

I Saw A Sign

As the prison sally gate slammed shut behind me I saw a sign.  It read: “Texas Department of Criminal Justice” With some amusement I thought, “Department of Justice”.  Really!

This world’s justice is far from just.  It is anything but fair.  If it were really just…really fair we would all be locked up.  We are all guilty of breaking some rule.  We are all guilty of doing stupid stuff. 

If we were honest, really honest with ourselves…we would all be on the inside…inside the fenced area…all wearing white jump suits.

No one escapes real justice, God’s justice…we will all have to do some “time”.

We will all have to suffer the consequences of our actions…If not in this life…in the next.

What’s the up side?  God’s mercy…God’s grace…God’s forgiveness.

For God bestows his mercy on even the guilty.

No mater who you are…no matter what you’ve done…no matter how many nails you have driven into the hands and feet of Jesus...God will forgive you.

Jesus will take you back…Jesus will welcome you home…Jesus will wrap his loving arms around you.

All you have to do is ask.  All I have to do is ask.

Now, that sounds easy…but it is a struggle…an everyday struggle.  And I struggle every day.

It is not fair, I shout and swear,

The world’s too cruel and hard to bear.

But then I think, I’m in the pink

And why should I make such a stink.

What have I possibly done,
To deserve just even one,

Of the blessings you’ve shown

In spite of the time I have blown.

I realize, to my surprise

You have garnered the eternal prize

You have taken that nail in stride

All because of my selfish pride

Into the vineyard I came late

But in Your hands I place my fate.

Dear Lord Jesus forgive me please

For here I am upon my knees.

Amen.

Coincidence?

Have you ever been working on something and you just can not make it fit back together?  Trying time after time to start a simple threaded fitting onto its threaded mate.  Maybe a nut onto a bolt in an awkward place that you can’t reach…a place you can’t maneuver you body into a comfortable position…a place your fingers can’t quite get to.  In spite of owning every tool known to man…no tool will fit because of all the obstructions.  You have to question what the engineer was thinking when he designed the equipment. 

You just want to go outside and scream every bad word you can think of…but after an eternity of fighting it…you remember to pray instead.

No sooner that you say, “Jesus, help me”…everything goes together like magic. 

God amazes me.

Grand Canyon Trails

I plodded past the red rock walls and down the twisting trail of Angel Bright Canyon watching the white water rapids rush through the parched landscape below while the rock spires and precariously perched boulders towered overhead.

The awesome backdrop was a reminder of the billions of years of erosion that exposed the geological layers of limestone, sandstone and shale.

As I reached the Phantom Ranch Suspension Bridge...perspiration seeped from every pour...my rubber legs told me it was time to climb off the elliptical and turn off the YouTube video playing the on my son's new 75" LED 2160p 4K HD flat screen TV.  As I stumble to the kitchen for a beer I notice the display on the exercise machine had counted off the exact numbers of calories equal to the donut I had inhaled before I started.

I guess I'll make that a diet root beer.

Reading, Righting and Rithmetic

Is it my genetic makeup, some mental deficiency or just a total lack of interest in the written word that contributes to my inability to read and write? 

I’m not sure…but I do have the report cards to prove that I am basically illiterate. 

Spelling, punctuation and simple sentence structure are overwhelming challenges.  It seemed that there are just too many rules and each rule has exceptions…not to mention the exceptions to the exception.

I’ve spent a lifetime of avoiding putting pen to paper…but as of late I have become interested in leaving a sort of breadcrumb trail of my journey through the forest of life.  With the advent of the computer, spell and grammar check…I can almost pass as literate.

I find it strange that my interest has turned to writing…even stranger…writing poems.

Maybe because verse tends to fly in the face of the stiff and stilted system espoused to by the old maid English teachers of my youth.  

Poems and verses seem to ignore the trite and hackneyed prohibitions against dangling participles, pluperfect verbs and proper pronouns.

I am attracted by the fact that the rhythm of the rhyme seems to be more feeling than function, more cadence than correctness, and more passion than prescription.

Although my doggerel is more of a dirge like drone of awful alliterations, hubris humor or some lame limerick…yet…to me, it holds a strange fascination.

I suppose it is ridiculous to think my rudimentary rhymes could ever be elevated to the status of poetry.

It’s quite the trick/ a limerick

For it takes time/ to make a rhyme

I want proper grammar/ but stumble and stammer

It’s almost a crime/ such clatter and clamor.

But what comes forth/ is not mine of course

It a gift from above/ that I’ve learned to love

So all I can do/ is point to you

You are the one/ everything comes from.

I owe my thanks/ to the one who ranks

To my Lord and God/ I give You the nod

So Thanks again/ my best friend

You’ve made it clear/ there’s nothing to fear.

Amen.

Change Is Good

I’ve noticed a change.  No longer do I look at my watch counting the agonizing seconds and minutes tick by.  My focus seems to have shifted from the preoccupation of trying to escape…to hanging on every word that is spoken.  I still manage to daydream and mentally wander off but it is not intentional. 

Yes, something has changed.  Some strange force pulls me to that place…that place of tranquility and peace.  I need my daily fix.  I need my battery recharged.  Actually it is more like a jump-start.  Some days it’s like the shock from a deliberator.

I’ll be in my pew trying not to daydream and something triggers a tsunami that generates an ego-crushing wave of humility that washes over me and leaves me with a salty trickle running down my cheeks.  And then comes the backwash…the backwash that sucks every bit of uncertainty, doubt and any lack of understanding God’s mysterious ways out to sea and drowns it…leaving nothing but the belief that God is real…God is alive and He bestows his grace even on the guilty, even on me.  

Dear Jesus, 

I suffer from a spiritual mange

That’s kinda weird and kinda strange

I know I need a daily change

So You my life can rearrange.

Thank you for the jump-start

I know I may not be too smart

But when my life goes off the chart

It is to You that I dart.

Amen.

Getting Old Is Not For Wimps

They say getting old is not for wimps.  But a wimp I am. 

I can see why this could be true.  I can no longer perform the physical feats I once could do.

But I think life is better when you get old.  Because I don’t care…I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.

It no longer matters that I never amounted to much.  Now the stress that accompanied that egotistical idea is gone. 

It took me a lifetime to figure out that God loves me…Yes…God loves me…and Jesus proved it.

Now my main concern is not disappointing God…this is a far less stressful situation than trying to please the world.

Dear Lord Jesus

Although a wimp I may be

Now I place my trust in Thee

I never did amount to much

But now I long for your loving touch.

This world is such a scary place

I much prefer your smiling face.

I am getting old but do not care

I am looking forward to being there.

I pray this prayer in your sight

Give me courage for the fight.

Help this wimp run the race

Please fill my heart with your grace.

Amen

It's Not Fair

It isn't fair/ that world out there
I whimpered and I cried.
For what they do/ is take from you,
while hurling remarks of snide.

I often squalled/ wailed and bawled.
How could they be so mean?
Woe is me/ rang out my plea.
Their spite was so extreme.

And so I fell/ into my hell
On them I placed the blame.
Until I woke/ saw I'm the bloke
That ought to be a shame.

I realized/ to my surprise.
I just could not help but note.
The one that died and never lied.
Was really my scape goat.

It isn't fair/ that world out there,
they whimpered and they cried.
For what we do/ we have not a clue.
and for this, my Jesus died.

I can't complain/ about my pain
I have much more that I deserve.
I'm blessed to be/ loved by Thee
And now I'm pleased to serve.

Amen

A Note To God

Today I heard/ from a little bird/ that you were waiting to hear from me.

In utter surprise/ I could not disguise/ my feelings of delight and glee.

So I sat down/ without my frown/ and penned a note to Thee.

I tried to say/ in some sane way/ what you really mean to me

But words fail/ to tell the tale/ of all that it can be.

Just to think/ I’m in the pink/ all because of Thee.

You did it all/ you took the fall/ nailed to that tree.

My heart it sunk/ I was in a funk/ I realized cause of me.

So I’m blown away/ know not what to say/ when I hear you want me.

I cannot repay/ one single day/ thru all eternity

The grace you give/ it lets me live/ even guilty me.

I’ll swallow my pride/ stand by your side / and pray I never flee.

Amen.

I Wiggle And Squirm

As I endeavored to sit quietly and listen to what God is saying to me...my monkey mind swings from one illogical notion to another.  I fumble through the rosary in a mindless mouthing of words, losing my place and restarting the repetitious prayers numerous times. 

Help me Lord to be still and listen...for here I sit with pen and paper ready to record what you tell me…yet no words are heard.

Dear Lord Jesus,

Here I sit/ I wiggle and squirm

Hoping your words/ will confirm

My longing for direction/ on my sojourn

In this I pray/ for the long term.

Thank you, Lord/ for putting up with me

Your love is unfathomed/ how can that be.

What You have done/ I can clearly see

The ultimate act/ just for me.

All I have/ is a humble Thank You.

That can never repay/ all that you do

Please pour out your grace/ upon me…a sinner

So I might run the race/ with you…a winner.

Amen.

Note To A Friend Feeling Rejected

I gave some thought to you last night

Had no idea that you and God were tight

The Christ was rejected and pushed away

And that’s exactly what you say.

All the saints that Our Lord marked

On suffering and pain they embarked

It was not for them but God’s glory

And that’s the moral to my story.

I pray this prayer will give you courage

And not your efforts it discourage

Keep up your toils in God’s works

Even when folks act like jerks.

Amen.