Love From a Distance
Death has brought about new life and relationships for my sister. She has been able to get in touch with family members from her father's side. These restored relationships have provided much help and hope. Tonight she spoke to her aunt for the first time.
She learned how much her birth father loved her. He was not allowed to visit her, so he would watch her play in the yard from a distance. I now attempt to express in words the feeling of love that story gave me.
From a distance I look
At the child I once held so close.
I hear the laughs
Of the baby that once breathed so gentle on my cheek.
From a distance I love
The child that is so close to my heart.
I watch her grow
Each day more distant from my tender hand and cheek.
I wonder what would have become
Of this girl and her dad
If I could have opened the gate and walked into the yard of her life.
I wonder from a distance.
I swept the porch
I swept off the porch
And cleaned the steps
So I would be ready for your visit.
You drove up in your car
Rolled down the window
Waved and went on down the road.
There I stood on the porch
Cleaned off for visitors
That wouldnt come to my home.
The steps were clean
and ready for your feet
But you just drove down the road.
Funny Picture
I think this photograph captures the spirit of my grandparents. They were some interesting and loving folk.
My grandmother is totaly looking at the watermelon. She probably wants a piece, but she is concerned about her figure, or doesnt want to get up and get a piece. My grandfather is wearing an apron. He too is looking at her eating. He probably wants a piece of watermelon, but my grandmother wont get him one.
Paper Treasures
Yesterday afternoon I went searching for a church document. I need to mail a Candidacy Certificate, but I had to find it first before I could mail it. So I began playing the classic game of “Where did I put that stupid thing?”. I looked in every drawer, every box, and every folder and file. I thought about where I placed it, but I could not find it. I will try again today.
Even though I failed to find my Candidacy Certificate I discovered something far greater. In one of my file folders I discovered some letters and cards from Nannie and Dado. I held them in my hand close to my heart. I could feel their presence in the paper. Then it happened.
At first it was very slow. I could feel them bubbling up down deep in my soul. They slowly moved up from the depths of my soul. Up, up, up. They moved delicately and slowly.
I opened the cards. Recorded on the pages were memories, words, and thoughts forever captured by pen and ink. I read their words. The letters reached down through my eyes and helped lift the travelers from the depth of my soul.
I cried.
I wept.
I felt my heart.
How sorely do I miss my Grandparents? This dance with grief has lasted longer than I want. Why did I sign my name on her dance card? Why did the band have to play such a long song?
Then I remembered. I did not choose grief. She crashed my prom. She walked in with her date death. He interrupted my dance with Nannie and Dado. He came tapped on the shoulders, and took my partners.
There I stood on the dance floor alone. Who would I dance with? The music is still playing, but I have no partner. Then she came. She offered to be my dance partner. I began to dance with grief.
So there on my bed on a Wednesday afternoon, I sat with my dance card. Gentle words from gentle partners pierced like a needle into the well of my soul. And from that pin prick welled up the tears of healing.
I cried.
I wept.
I felt my heart.
My dance partner lifted her head off my shoulder. My tears and touched her cheek. She knew that the dance would soon be over. My name was on another dance card, but I forget on whose.
So knowing the song would soon end, we held each other tightly. I dance with grief, and she dances with me. My tears flow onto her soft cheek. One hand holds her tightly, while the other clutches the paper treasures.
Palms of Victory
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear.
He was born of a promise
To a people long ago
Held in sin and bondage
Their freedom he did hold
The wise men came to worship
Bearing gifts of spice and gold
When they saw the holy promise
This was what was told
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear.
He grew up in a mill house
Working with wood
His hands were worn and calloused
Like a carpenter’s would
He went out of the city
To the river bank
He was baptized in the Jordan
We he came up a voice from Heaven spake
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear.
He wandered in the wilderness
Alone for 40 days
Tired and weary
He fasted and he prayed
The Devil came to him
To tempt him
And play upon his fears
But the way worn pilgrim
Shouted in his ear
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear
He traveled through the country
Calling men to him
He taught and preached the gospel
And the sick healed them
The priest of the cities
Upset at his words
Refused to accept the statement
That this man was Lord
When he came into the city
Riding on a ass
They hearts were filled anger
As the palms waved as he pass
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear
He took his friends with him
Into an upper room
And told of the things
That would happen to him soon
They broke the bread
And drank the cup
And before they left the room
This hymn filled the room
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear.
They took him to the courthouse
And brought him before the judge
The people didn’t want this man
They rejected his love
They whipped and flogged him
Filled with hate and pain
They nailed him to the cross
But the angles in heaven sang
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear.
Early in the morning
The women went to the tomb
And found that no one was inside the room
They looked around for Jesus
But to their surprise
Lo there he was standing brighter than the sun in the sky
Death was not victorious
The grave had lost its sting
And now all the people with joy can sing
Palms of Victory
Crowns of Glory
Palms of Victory I shall wear.
Learning to walk
Lately I have been learning a lot of new things. Today I learned to walk. I thought after 25, almost 26, years walking would be mastered. I guess I was wrong.
It only takes one wrong step to make a grown man fall. That is all it took me today. I tripped on a stupid concrete curb and landed right in the middle of the road.
I didn't cuss when it happened, but I won't comment on what I said afterwards.
I do admit that sometimes my words are too honest and to the point.
So now I am sitting in a chair with my leg up in the air. There goes my plans for the day. Here is what I look like now.
Canceled Numbers
I want to call, but the number is now cancelled. I look at your name in my cell phone. I know that if I try to call I will only get a message from the operator. The number is of no practical use.
It once was though.
When the day had a lull I would call you. I knew you would be at home.
When I had good news I would call you. I knew you would celebrate with me.
When I was disenchanted I would call you. I knew you would give clarity.
When I was down I would call you. I knew you would have a funny story to cheer me up.
That was then and this is now.
The number is cancelled. It has no use, but to remind me of all those times I would call.
I call someone else now when I am bored, happy, disenchanted, and down. I call the whom you two are with.
Signal Flags
This story was told to me yesterday at lunch by the most esteemed Dr. Kenneth Kinghorn. He says that in Turkey families put flags on their roofs to let men know that they have a single woman in the house. Dr. Kinghorn said, "It tells the men to come a knockin."
I wish we had that practice in the United States. Dating would be so much easier. Men could just drive past the house of a girl they liked and look for a flag.
At Orlean House the single women fly this flag:
Ladies fly it proud.
Communion
Many Colors
Many Faces
Many Races
All approach in one grace.
To their place at the Gospel feast.
To entertain at least for a moment
A glimpse of Heavens love and peace.
Church Doors that Face the Street
It has been awhile since it last happened.
Today it did.
I walked out of church through the front doors and right into the street.
The sun beamed down onto my face with the warmth of God's grace and love.
It was like I was walking into the light.
Church doors need to face the street.
Some churches enter in the backdoor and leave through the backdoor.
That is good for some folks because they might not want to be seen coming in or out of church doors.
Pizza Parlors
I went to eat some pizza tonight. However, I left my dorm intending to eat some steak. I don't know how a group intending to eat steak ends up at a pizza buffet, but we did. We are so indecisive. We were once used to people who were good at leading us. We would do whatever they wanted.
But they are gone now. They have moved on to a new group of people to boss.
So now we are a group without a guide.
We leave for steak, and end up at a pizza parlor.
I hate Pizza Parlors.
Too many kids.
Too many boogers.
Not enough sauce.
Not enough meat.
Too much profit.
Too little taste.
Oh those calories were such a waste.
Puzzle Piece
It took a while,
But you gave me the piece
That completed the puzzle.
To bad it was the wrong picture.
I should have checked the box.
Biscuits and Gravy
On a cold morning, nothing tastes better than a hot biscuit with some warm gravy. Oh biscuits start rising so we both can be eating gravy.
When I was a boy I would often eat biscuits and gravy while staying at my grandparent’s homes. One house had thick gravy while the other had watery sausage gravy. One grandparent would heat up canned biscuits while the other would bake homemade ones. Many times at one house I would eat gravy and white bread. That combination didn’t taste so good, but right now I find myself craving the taste of cold white bread and hot gravy. Oh biscuits start rising so we both can be eating gravy.
Handwritten Letters
I have an old ammo box under my bed. Inside the safety of the green metal box I have a collection of handwritten letters and cards. There are birthday cards, graduation cards, getwell cards, some Christmas cards, a few Valentines day cards, letters from old girls, and letters from loved ones. It is a treasure box of memories. This box was designed to keep ammo secure and ready for battle. Yet now it contains memories.
I don't have a green metal box on the internet. There is no place to keep emails or posts. I guess this blog will keep my words secure on the digital page, but for how long? What happens when I forget that I have a blog? Or when I forget the web address for my digital ammo box?
The box under my bed reminds me from time to time what it contains. In some ways it still carries ammo. When I am down or disillusioned I open it up and reach in and pull out some paper. These letters and cards remind me of the trip to the mail box, or when I would reach next to the birthday cake and pick up a stack of cards.
I hold the paper close to my face. I smell the paper. I sometimes can smell the person who wrote the letter. I close my eyes and think of them. Then I read. These words written in ink. The grow older day by day, year by year, but do not loose their freshness on my eye and soul. They seep in like the warmth of a mug of apple cider on a cold fall day.
Handwritten letters sent from my pen to your heart.
On paper cut from an old Georgia pine.
Words written in ink from a distant land.
In my hands I hold a word, a prayer, a thought.
I close my eyes and stop time.
Handwritten letters from your heart to my hand.
