How Free Wheelchair Mission helps the Tiny Tims of the world

Bob Cratchit’s little boy was lame.
And while we know that young lad’s name,
we cannot know the crip’ling shame
that haunted Tiny Tim.

He longed to move around and play
with gifts he’d get on Christmas Day.
But Tim would sit immobilized
and watch most longingly.

The man for whom Tim’s father worked
was rich and mean. A selfish jerk.
Old Scrooge was not the least concerned
for anyone but him.

Scrooge lived his life with just one aim
to clothe himself with wealth and fame.
Amazingly, the man was blind
to human suffering.

But when Scrooge had a change of heart,
he found a way to do his part
to bring young Tim some dignity
and bless the boy with joy.

Free Wheelchair Mission does that, too,
at Christmas and the whole year through.
They lift the lame around the world
and place them in God’s hands.

To help them care won’t break the bank.
For what it costs to fill your tank
a child in need can know God’s love
and wheel themself around.

* Check out Free Wheelchair Mission at
http://www.freewheelchairmission.org

Wrestling with the tragedy in Connecticut

Emmanuel (God-with-us), why?
Is it Your will that children die?
That fear surprise our trusting hearts
and keep our faith at bay?

Of course we know that’s not Your plan.
But ever since the world began
it seems that evil stalks its prey
and steals our peace and joy.

Please help us find the means to cope
amid this season of true hope
that calls to mind You came to earth
to know our grief and pain.

In Newtown or in Bethlehem
where Herod-madness strikes again*,
may Rachel’s tears be wiped away
by One who weeps with us.

* St. Matthew 2:13-18

How e-mail is replacing the neighborhood mailman

The mailman used to stop and talk
as he’d walk up and down the block
delivering small packages
and letters from his pouch.

We knew our carrier by name
and though he never found much fame,
I’m certain that his Uncle Sam
took pride in what he did.

Through wind and rain and snow and sleet
our mailman walked on weary feet
to guarantee delivery
before his day was done.

But through the years it all would change
as e-mail that we once thought strange
replaced the need for envelopes
and canceling our stamps.

A faceless voice with “You’ve got mail!”
would prove to be the coffin’s nail
as costs went up but not demand
for hand-delivered mail.

Still every Christmas, cards arrive
delivered by the one who drives
a stubby truck or walks his route
to bring joy to our world.

A suicide watch in Washington

My uncle has reached the frayed end of his rope.
He stands at the brink of despair.
He nervously ponders the options he has.
The thought of the fall leaves him scared.

A voice can be heard saying “Do it, old man!
We’d be better off if you jump!
The cliff that you’re facing is taxing for sure,
but you’ll probably land on your rump!”

My Uncle Sam counters, “Can’t we compromise?
Must I be the scapegoat for all?
Will you simply stand by with cameras in hand
and shutter away while I fall?”

I’m hoping the President offers Sam hope
and keeps him from taking a leap.
It’s no time for pushing or holding hard lines.
The cliff is both deadly and steep.