A tribute to kindergarten teachers

I call them gentle shepherds
who are charged with pint-size lambs
about to graze on truth where e’er it’s found.
Though underpraised, they’re worthy of
far more than what they’re paid.
The pasture where they lead is holy ground.

They welcome children primed to learn
wide-eyed (yet quite naïve)
who anxiously leave home for most the day.
They take the hands of little ones
and guide them to their room
where tears are dried and nervous fears allayed.

Yes, kindergarten teachers
are a cut above the rest.
If truth were told they are a special breed.
Who else can make arithmetic an interactive game
while teaching future scholars how to read.

The ones who take our five year-olds
into their confidence
help shape their view of school for years to come.
They grease the skids for learning
as they model etiquette
in a lifelong search for learning just begun.

** I dedicate this poem to my middle daughter (Allison Asimakoupoulos Anderson) who has devoted the last seven years of her life to shepherding pint-size learners at North Park Elementary School in Chicago.

A prayer for Texans in need of Noah’s ark

When it rains and keeps on raining
and there’s no real end in sight
there is flooding and the death toll starts to rise.
While the dreaded drought is over,
what was bad gives way to worse.
It’s no wonder Texans gaze toward the skies.

Yes, their highways are like rivers.
Gushing waters flood their towns.
Homes and hopes are (without warning) swept away.
Rains of Biblical proportion
find folks drawn to Noah’s ark
as they kneel down on the soggy ground to pray.

Lord, please part the clouds. Have mercy!
Change the pattern of these storms.
Grant an upper atmospheric pressure shift.
May evaporation hasten.
May the makeshift lakes recede.
Give the drenched a needed faith-inspired lift.

Suggestions for Memorial Day

Their chiseled names are growing smooth.
The grass and weeds unmown.
These graveyards rarely visited
hide heroes barely known.

The mem’ries of these patriots
who died to keep us free
must be unearthed and called to mind
from sea to shining sea.

This weekend is a perfect time
to stroll among old graves.
Saluting courage of the past
will help us to be brave.

Seek out the places time forgot.
Go plant a tiny flag.
Remembering keeps faith alive
so Liberty can brag.

Will the American church survive?

Time was when Europe was the heart
of Christianity.
The pulse of those embracing Christ was strong.
The ancient stone cathedrals
were alive with praying souls
and choirs who expressed their faith in song.

But over time these churches
with stained windows that inspired
evolved into museums of the past.
The culture (deaf to Scripture)
signed a language of its own.
It was cold to God as iron that is cast.

And now within our nation
something similar is seen.
What the Bible claims as truth is disavowed.
Growing churches aren’t as common
and those dying reach for straws
as they redefine what righteousness allows.

Can this tragic trend be countered?
Will we turn to God again?
Is our prayer that He will bless us just a song?
Have we turned our backs forever
on the One we claimed to trust?
Or will we repent from tolerating wrong?

The jury is still out!
 

* http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2015/05/12/christianity-faces-sharp-decline-as-americans-are-becoming-even-less-affiliated-with-religion/