Letter To My Valentine

Dear Miss Mary

You lift me up when I am down

You’re always there to cure my frown

When we go out upon the town

You persevere when I’m a clown

But it’s much more than that, you know

It’s not that you just cure my woe

You stretch me up and make me grow

And when I stumble you never crow

When you’ve had a little wine

Or maybe lift an occasional stein

You’re smiling face looks so fine
So will you be my valentine.

Always yours

Shovel Ready Jobs

I clearly recall my father’s stern warnings about staying in school, studying hard and making something of myself.  He always concluded with the statement: “You don’t want to dig ditches for a living.”  Each summer he somehow wrangled a job for me as an oilfield roustabout…that meant spending a lot of time operating a shovel. Apparently his “show and tell” approach worked…because in spite of my inabilities and total lack of interest in all things academic I struggled though school and obtained the coveted “Sheep Skin”.

Today, as I count the few remaining years until my 80^th birthday, I find myself with shovel in hand digging the proverbial ditch that I was warned about as a child.

Thanks, Dad, for all you taught me.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all my many undeserved blessings, especially, for giving me the good health to be able to do what so many can’t.

Amen

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.