with apologies to Francis Scott Key
O say can you see
by the dusk’s tardy light
what so proudly we glimpsed
as today was just dawning.
Whose red stripes and white stars
caused our heart’s beat to skip
as we paused to reflect
on the price tag of freedom.
Of this banner we sing
and the soldiers who died
who dared to defend
all the rights that we cherish.
O let us give praise
to the God of all nations
for this land where we live
and the life we enjoy.
Memorial Day from the Old Testament to present
Stones of remembrance
found in a graveyard
help us to focus on freedom’s cost.
Tombstones remind us
we are indebted
to those brave soldiers
whose lives were lost.
Stones of remembrance
(boulders of blessings)
were ancient Israel’s visual aid.
As God commanded,
rock piles signaled
how He brought freedom
as they obeyed.
Stones of remembrance
that mark our history
focus our gaze on Gods faithfulness.
Markers remind us
how He has led us
in times of sorrow, blessing and stress.
Stones of remembrance
serve as reminders
that God is with us guiding our way.
As we possess the land we’ve been given,
He will prove faithful
through come what may.
* the above poem is based on Joshua 4:1-8 and can be sung to the tune for “Morning Has Broken”
Celebrating the National Park Service Centennial
The Parks we know as National
are like a crown of gems.
A diadem of glory! But for who?
Yosemite and Yellowstone,
Grand Canyon, Mount Rainier
are treasures God bequeathed to me and you.
Death Valley and Denali,
Arches, Everglades and Bryce
are all members of a fam’ly we adore.
A President named Wilson
(some one hundred years ago)
established these great parks and many more.
There’s Crater Lake, Saguaro,
Mesa Vertie and Big Bend,
Rocky Mountains, Mammoth Caves and North Cascades.
The Badlands, Zion, Grand Tetons,
Great Sand Dunes, Isle Royale.
My goodness, Uncle Sam, that’s some parade!
The NPS deserves our praise.
It’s kept this legacy
protected and pristine (deprived of scars).
So on this anniversary
of parks we know and love,
let’s celebrate this gift uniquely ours.
*http://www.nationalparks.org/our-work/celebrating-100-years-service
A lasting symbol of a faithful life
My mother’s hands are gnarled and quite wrinkled.
The kiss of time has left its beauty marks.
Those slender fingers clutch for more than mem’ries.
They reach in love to comfort hurting hearts.
My mother’s hands upraised in praise to Jesus
call me to worship and to seek His face.
My mother’s hands still fold to ask God’s blessing.
They grasp His hand and hold on for dear life.
Much like a toddler takes her daddy’s fingers,
my mother clings to God with knuckles white.
My mother’s hands recall her deep devotion
inviting me to serve the Lord she loves.
My mother’s hands are strangers to an iPad.
But they make music when she’s asked to play.
An old upright or baby grand piano
provide the keys on which her fingers pray.
My mother’s hands can entertain her neighbors
while worshiping the One who owns her heart.
My mother’s hands will one day cease their motion.
Deprived of life, they’ll lay unclenched and still.
They will remind me of her faithful service
responding to a call that she fulfilled.
My mother’s hands will on that day direct me
to fix my gaze on our eternal home.
*the above poem can be sung to the tune “Finlandia”
Remembering a musical giant
Purple Rainman Prodigy.
Prince, you were a mystery.
Your private life it seems to me
has left us in the dark.
Doves are crying. People, too.
Paisley Park now grieves for you.
Too soon it seems your life was through.
And you died all alone.
An elevator was your tomb.
A claustrophobic sterile room
where fate would choose to seal your doom
became your final stage.
But were you going up or down?
Sweet Prince, could you see Jesus’ crown
from where you stood as you were bound
for that unearthly place?
You were a giant, though quite short.
And when you have your day in court,
when God the Judge gives His report,
I’m praying He’ll show grace.
Good night, Sweet Prince may angels sing
a melody that dulls the sting
that follows death when sorrows bring
a pain that haunts the heart.
My Rhymes and Reasons 