It’s New Year’s Day Again!

Baseball’s “Opening Day” is worth celebrating

And so a brand new season starts
in Wrigley Field and Fenway Park,
in stadiums across the land
where diamonds woo our love.

Yes, baseball’s hibernation’s past.
It’s time to hear “Play Ball!” at last.
And cheer our team and fuel our dreams
that this might be the year.

It’s time the “boys of summer” play.
This really is like New Year’s Day.
Regrets are gone while hopes run high.
Let’s all sing “Auld Lang Syne.”

And let’s resolve to not be sad
when our home team is playing bad.
What matters most is how we feel
because we love this game.

In Christchurch, God Forbid!

Reflections on yet another terrorist attack

In Christchurch?
The unthinkable!
People in prayer
were robbed of life.
The deafening sound
of gunfire
broke the silence
and broke God’s heart.

In Christchurch
Muslims are welcomed.
So too Christians and Jews,
Hindus and Buddhists.
The gate may be narrow,
but remains open
to seekers of truth
who own their own sin
and would be
delivered from them.

In Christchurch
the reality of evil
is sadly acknowledged
as proof of our plight.
Flawed people
prejudging other people
made in God’s image
call attention
to our need
of a Savior.

Lord, have mercy!

It’s the March of the Mad

Celebrating the craziness of March madness

It’s the march of the mad,
the parade of the tall.
It’s the time when the “roundball” is king.
And as royal subjects,
we curtsy and bow
content with the tribute we bring.

With Final Four focus
my vision remains
consistent with those just like me.
From jump ball to buzzer,
we’re glued to each game
ever grateful for cable TV.

The Spell of the Yukon

What keeps mushers and dogs doing the Iditarod

The spell of the arctic.
The call of the wild.
The beckoning scent of the trail.
Each one claims allegiance
and can’t be ignored.
Both musher and dog must prevail.

The Northern Lights dancing.
The frigid nights chill.
The winter dogs hunger to run
remind us it’s why
we endure what we do
in a race that is second to none.

It’s more than a race
for both musher and team.
The Iditarod is an ordeal.
This sled dog adventure
through ice, wind and snow
concludes in champion’s meal.

And the Oscar Goes to…

Who is most deserving of our applause?

We sing the praise of those who act,
of those who just pretend.
An Oscar is a trophy for a fake.
Ironically, we recognize
the pretense (not the real).
In Hollywood, the actors take the cake.

But in my town, the hypocrites
are not esteemed as great.
We honor those who are what they appear.
They walk their talk and live their faith
with no real need to hide.
Transparent lives require no veneer.

So who deserves our accolades?
The stars of silver screen?
The well-rehearsed who play another’s role?
Or should our true allegiance
be reserved for those who prove
integrity is more than just a goal?