Remembering Steve Jobs and his amazing apple crop

In the orchard of technology,
an orchardist named Steve
would cultivate an envied crop
most found hard to believe.

The world-class apple he devised
was pleasing to the eye.
The Macintosh that he produced
we couldn’t wait to try.

Unlike the apple Adam ate
(too quickly picked by Eve),
this apple changed the way we’d work.
We owe our bite to Steve.

That byte would prove a big-league chomp
and make his critics choke.
The jobs his orchard would brought about
were hardly just a joke.

Beyond the windows, what a sight!
‘Twas very plain to see.
What Steve created shaped our world
though it was not PC.

A genius, that’s what he was.
iPod. iPhone. iPad
were fruit of his amazing mind.
And that’s why we’re so sad.

My iPhone buzzed with breaking news.
The orchardist had died.
“How weird (yet how appropriate)
to learn this way,” I sighed.

“The jobs report won’t be the same.
Technology’s bereft,
because the apple grower’s gone
in spite of all he left.”

Amanda’s loyal family celebrates her release

This Fort Knox has been defended
by a family’s loyal love
that proved worth its weight in gold. But, we all know…
Blood flows thicker than does water.
Thus, Amanda’s folks believed
you must wait for justice though it may be slow.

Now at last their hoped-for justice
has arrived in Italy
as Fort Knox withstood a four-year-long assault.
Curt and Edda (and their daughters)
forged a fortress-like appeal
quite convinced the crime was not Amanda’s fault.

God in Heaven, we are grateful
that this co-ed has been freed.
Help her find the freedom You alone can give.
Overwhelm her with a knowledge
of Your grace beyond degree
so to face what’s still to come and freely live.

A call to let God lead in the midst of loss

You waltzed with cancer many years
and watched it claim your mate.
The blackness of your sorrow draped the stars.
And though the drape has lifted
and the nights are beautiful,
you’re still grieving ’cause you’re dancing with the scars.

You tangoed with your boss at work
and he showed you the door.
Your pride’s been pummeled and you’re seeing stars.
Though you’ve reason to hold up your head,
your posture finds you bent.
Understandably! You’re dancing with the scars.

You cha-cha-ed with a toxic church
and fell flat on your face
convinced that grace is more apt found in bars.
What tripped you up was painful
and it’s so hard to forgive.
After all, you still are dancing with the scars.

You polkaed with a treasured friend
with whom you’d trust your life,
but now it seems their friendship was a farce.
Betrayal is a robber.
It will steal your joy and more.
In your poverty, you’re dancing with the scars.

Like dancing on that TV show,
the judges can be cruel.
Your critics act as though you came from Mars.
If God would only show up
and remind you you’re okay.
But you limp along alone dancing with scars.

Still one day He’ll tap your shoulder
and request “May I cut in?
May I have this dance? I love you as you are.
I will lead. You just need follow.
Leave the footsteps up to me
as together we will dance in spite of scars.”

Lessons from Shane and Josh’s release; The Nightmare in Nevada

The Hostages are Home
Lessons from Shane and Josh’s release

We feared that they would come home dead,
but they’ve returned alive instead.
“Go, take a hike!” the hikers heard.
“You two are free to go!”

But freedom always has a price.
Some ransom, bail or sacrifice.
For Shane and Josh the cost was paid.
as they (imprisoned) hoped.

That’s also true of you and me
who without Christ would not be free.
For we like them could not make good
on what (God deemed) we owed.

But thanks to Him the price was paid
and from the dank and dismal shade,
we walked into the brilliant sun
to dance to freedom’s song.

The Nightmare in Nightmare
Tragedy at the Reno Air Show

What are the odds
that the air show in Reno
would prove to be such a gamble?

Scores scrambled and ran for the lives.
Wives, husbands, grandparents, children.
But not all.
Some couldn’t.
There wasn’t time.

At least eleven died
as the Galloping Ghost
bucked off her rider
before blindly barreling
into that unsuspecting crowd.

For crying out loud!
In light of the tragedy
that has cast a dark pall over our nation,
weeping in silence is hardly inappropriate.
It is the right way to respond
to such an unthinkable wrong.

Reflecting on a friend’s impending journey to Heaven; Forget You, Pat Robertson

The Trip of a Lifetime
Reflecting on a friend’s impending journey to Heaven

She’s packed her bags and now awaits
the trip of a lifetime.

It is a journey
for which she has long prepared.
Her ticket was prepaid long ago
by a loving (and generous) Friend.

In recent days she’s dreamed about her destination
having read the travel guide
that graphically pictures an awesome place
that is nothing short of “out of this world.”

For now Diana rests in the waiting room.
She listens for a whistle
and the welcomed squeal of steel on steel.
She knows that soon the approaching train
will arrive at the station and slow to a stop.

The conductor will at last appear
and announce in words so soft only she will hear them.
“Heaven…. All aboard.”

Diana (beaming with joy)
will bound up the steps and find her seat.
In the twinkling of an eye she will realize
that she is no longer weary,weak, confused or sick.

Fully alive and completely well,
she will look out the window as the train
pulls out of Redstart Station
and see a crowd of family, friends and loved-ones
waving goodbye.

“Don’t weep for me,” she will call out.
“I’m headed home.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she adds smiling.

But only those with eyes of faith
will be able to read her lips
on the other side of the moving window.
And brushing tears from their eyes,
they will return her smile.

* I wrote this for a friend in Illinois whose beloved wife was nearing the end a courageous battle with brain cancer. Bob had sent an email indicating that the end was near. As I read about Diana’s impending journey to Heaven, the image of the train station came to mind. Amazingly, Diana died in her home on Redstart Road less than an hour after I e-mailed the poem to Bob. Peace to her memory!

The Trip of a Lifetime
Reflecting on a friend’s impending journey to Heaven

She’s packed her bags and now awaits
the trip of a lifetime.

It is a journey
for which she has long prepared.
Her ticket was prepaid long ago
by a loving (and generous) Friend.

In recent days she’s dreamed about her destination
having read the travel guide
that graphically pictures an awesome place
that is nothing short of “out of this world.”

For now Diana rests in the waiting room.
She listens for a whistle
and the welcomed squeal of steel on steel.
She knows that soon the approaching train
will arrive at the station and slow to a stop.

The conductor will at last appear
and announce in words so soft only she will hear them.
“Heaven…. All aboard.”

Diana (beaming with joy)
will bound up the steps and find her seat.
In the twinkling of an eye she will realize
that she is no longer weary,weak, confused or sick.

Fully alive and completely well,
she will look out the window as the train
pulls out of Redstart Station
and see a crowd of family, friends and loved-ones
waving goodbye.

“Don’t weep for me,” she will call out.
“I’m headed home.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she adds smiling.

But only those with eyes of faith
will be able to read her lips
on the other side of the moving window.
And brushing tears from their eyes,
they will return her smile.

• I wrote this for a friend in Illinois whose beloved wife was nearing the end a courageous battle with brain cancer. Bob had sent an email indicating that the end was near. As I read about Diana’s impending journey to Heaven, the image of the train station came to mind. Amazingly, Diana died in her home on Redstart Road less than an hour after I e-mailed the poem to Bob. Peace to her memory!

Forget You, Pat Robertson!
Alzheimer’s Disease is no reason to forget your wedding vows

On that tux and gown day
I said I’d obey
heart-felt vows that I voiced to my wife.
In good times and bad
whether happy or sad,
I pledged her my love all my life.

For better, for worse
including the curse
of Dr. Alzheimer’s disease!
So, Pat, I’m appalled,
disappointed and galled
at your recent disturbing decrees.

Forget what I’ve vowed?
Is that what’s allowed
when memory-loss moves in my home?
Forget you, my friend.
Promised-love never ends
even when illness leaves me alone.

The vows that I made
will not wither or fade
when it’s much more convenient to bail.
I’ve been called to attend
to my spouse to the end
though her memory be caged in some jail.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/17/us/pat-robertson-remarks-on-alzheimers-stir-passions.html