The Fruit of Love

A dedication hymn for my granddaughter

The fruit of love, this gift of life,
we place, O God, within your care.
To know your grace and guiding hand
in years to come is now our prayer.

This tender child is known by you,
inclined to truth and evil too.
Would you protect this one we love
from sin and harm its whole life through?

A baby’s future waits with hope
enveloped with the Spirit’s grace.
Tomorrow’s promise can be glimpsed
within this infant’s tiny face.

With humble joy we recognize
a task that only has begun.
A sacred charge lies in our arms
to cradle faith and pass it on.

We praise you, Father, God alone.
We praise you, Jesus, Son of love.
And to the Spirit, Holy One,
we sing our praise. Amen. Amen.

When a Poet Turns Sixty-five

Contemplating a Milestone Birthday

This week I reach that storied age
where (as I reach to turn the page)
I realize my book called LIFE
is racing toward the end.

At sixty-five I don’t feel old.
But (based on what I have been told)
there are some folks who just might choose
to celebrate with me.

Arthur Rightus is a pain.
When he shows up, he leaves me lame.
And where Art goes, Ben Gay is sure
to tag along as well.

Dee Mentia can be such a jerk.
She shows up at my place of work
and steals all kinds of memories.
I think that Dee is cruel.

Ty Lenol and Anna Sen
have been my parents’ trusted friends.
But these two chums can wait their turn.
Right now, I’m feeling fine.

And then there’s Cole Lenoscopy.
He’s quite invasive, don’t you see?
I cringe whenever Cole’s around.
He leaves me awfully drained.

Jerry Attricks thinks it’s time
to join him for a glass of whine.
But I’m not ready to admit
his club is where I fit.

So much for folks who want to be
invited to my grand party.
I think a dinner with my wife
is all I really want.

Friended by God

What if Good Friday was God’s Facebook post?

God friended me through Facebook.
He clicked “love” instead of “like.”
I was humbled by the fact He knew my name.
And what is more, God commented
below what I had shared.
He posted on my wall “I feel your pain.”

God tagged me in a photograph
of Jesus on the cross.
I didn’t understand the reason why.
But then the Lord reminded me
He hung there for my sin,
that I was on His mind the day He died.

I have memories with the Lord of Life
the day He wore my crown.
Good Friday is our anniversary.
For that is when a holy God
befriended me in love
just as I am without a single plea.

A Season for Starting Over

Why I love the start of baseball season

“Just wait til next year!”
That’s the phrase we repeat
when our much-loved home team comes up short.
It’s our mantra through winter.
It’s what kindles our hope
as we follow the scouting reports.

Next year has arrived now.
Our waiting is done.
The crack of the bat can be heard.
It’s time to start over.
It’s time to play ball.
It’s time for our hearts to be stirred.

Each spring I’m a youngster.
A boy with his glove.
I follow my team every day.
I listen while driving
or watch them at home.
I am focused on Fall as they play.

I know it’s just baseball.
But somehow this game
takes me back to the time I was young.
Playing catch with my cousin
(or workup at school)
come to mind when the Anthem is sung.

I love new beginnings.
Fresh starts feel so good.
The Bible defines them as grace.
The past is forgotten.
The slate is wiped clean
and everyone starts in first place.