His Work 10-25-12

He laid a sheet of paper down
upon a table top -
and from his chair he wrote and wrote
so faithfully, non-stop.

They laughed at him and bragged about
the works that they had done.
They filled vast reams of papers, yet -
he had but only one.

They boasted of their many works
their fancy hands exposed.
Great works in rich calligraphy
were pridefully disclosed.

Again they stood around and laughed,
but never did he gloat.
They laughed and scoffed and scoffed and laughed
at everything he wrote..

His life was written on one page -
but what? I didn't know.
The paper he had laying there
was white as driven snow.

Sorrow filled his teary face.
This world fatigued his soul.
The agony that he endured
had taken quite a toll.

I saw that many people judged,
made fun of and demeaned,
ridiculed and criticized
his lack of works they'd seen.

Yet faithfully, he wrote much more.
Were no works written there?
Still blank, his paper had appeared.
I thought it quite unfair.

Unfair that he was working hard
on words that wouldn't be.
Unfair that he was judged by those
on work they couldn't see.

Sometimes we think life's all in vain -
those things we do for God -
but He knows every one of us
and how, through life, we've trod.

It's not the works that we can see
that's valued on our page -
but rather what was done in love
that God will one day gauge.

So why was it completely blank?
Confused, I stopped to think -
but then I learned his work was penned
with tears instead of ink.

Yes, God knows our compassion.
So ponder this, it's true:
God floods His grace upon His world,
gets faithfulness from few.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Where Are You Lord? 10-24-12

I searched and searched but couldn't find -
along still waters I was blind.
I was confused, I was dismayed
until I stopped, until I prayed...

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish eyes that stray

that I might see a better way -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish ears of choice

that I might hear Your still, small voice -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish hands that wring

that can't hold firm to Your blessing -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my straight and prideful nose

that I won't judge and won't suppose -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my foolish, selfish words

so I'll enjoy Your singing birds -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften me as a potter would

who'll mold me into what I should -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften me with a discipline

that I might stop, turn, then begin -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish heart so I

might feel the hurt, the faintest cry -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Were still waters meant to be?
Although I searched, I couldn't see.
Yet there behind me all the way
was Jesus.  Then I heard Him say,

"I am in all
nature, beauty and goodness,

power, supremacy and holiness,

wrath, sovereignty and greatness,

mercy, compassion and fairness,
grace, knowledge and boldness,
respect, teaching and kindness,

love, patience and faithfulness,
loyalty, giving and happiness,

peace, joy and gladness".

I had searched, but couldn't see -
and I was at a loss -

until I stopped and He found me -

from high upon a cross.

So now it is
I follow Him -
in hands that are the Potter's -

faithfully and steadfast,

with endurance and perseverance,

along His peaceful waters.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Washed Away 10-14-12

Do our hearts ache when swift waves break
and wash up sandy beach
or do the waves sing, "Jesus saves!"
when up on beaches reach?
Does 'make life fair' entwine our prayer
though time cannot reverse?
His divine force would change our course
for better - not for worse.

Our free-will stalk will alter walk.
We travel where we will.
Through other lands or beach head sands,
we'll traverse on until -
our final stride meets where we died
and breath no longer flows -
and final prints expose all hints.
...for that is how life goes.

As I looked back, my lifelong track -
I was so much dismayed.
I persevered - but disappeared
those tracks in life I made.
My earthly talk was not all walk.
Again I look around.
With seashore grim, so stunned I am.
My prints cannot be found.

All lost one day and washed away -
a life I lived in haste -
and purpose quashed when prints were washed,
away - ohhh, what a waste!
I don't succumb, but ponder some -
now when I bow to pray.
And so it was, His waves, because
He washed my sins away!

Divine, His grace, hung in my place
when Jesus died instead.
With sins forgiv'n, I bound for Heav'n.
My earthly work is dead.
Let heart not ache, when waves should break
to smooth out wicked beach -
but follow yon His footsteps on,
'til destination reach.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Prayer of Thanksgiving 9-23-12

This table, set with centerpiece,
fine china, silverware -
has food prepared deliciously
with tender loving care.
With hungry eye, I relish this -
this meal, my daily bread -
then fold my hands and bow my head
before my prayer is said.

I do recite it quick and slurred,
though with the best intent -
and now that grace is said and heard,
it is a blessed event.
The phrases I was taught to say
were pressed down deep in me -
but words are empty without thoughts
of pure sincerity.

Yes, just before I eat, I pray,
but there's a place so crude
which moves me closer to the truth -
that others have no food.
It haunts me as I look around, the
visions of the starved -
who wide-eyed blankly stare at me
behind my turkey, carved.

I see their bloated tummies and
the flies around their eyes.
I hear soft moans from babies lips,
and echoes of their cries.
I taste the mush that they call food.
It lingers on my breath.
I feel the tears start down my cheeks.
I smell the stench of death.

I hesitate with my first bite,
then ask myself, "Do I
really care they're teary eyed
and hungry 'til they die?"
I pray that all the "least of these"
are eating well in Heav'n.
Please help me Lord, to understand
the blessings I was giv'n.

So now when I recite my prayer,
as I sit down to feast,
I ask myself if I'm sincere
and thankful in the least.
For that's when I can hear my voice
ascending to His ear.
He knows if I speak empty words
or if I am sincere.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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See Me Through 9-21-12

I'm ragged and I'm hungry.

My needs I can't afford.

My debts are huge and piling up.

Please lift me through it Lord.

I've served my country, served it well,

I've fought the gun and sword.

Though I survived, it's difficult -

please help me through it Lord.

An accident has left me lame,

I cannot be restored -

'cept through a gracious miracle.

Please walk me through it Lord.

I've lost my dear and loving spouse,

and I'm so lonely, bored.

Please speak to me with scripture now

and hold me through it Lord.

I was so blind in all my sin.

Your grace I had ignored.

Now through Your love and sacrifice,

please save me through it Lord.

Finally on my deathbed, I'm

about to get on-board -

a ship that takes me there to You.

Please see me through it Lord.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Beautiful 9-11-12

As vivid as a sunlight's ray atop each sturdy stem,

those bright and yellow flowers.  Could anyone condemn?

And others as the bluest sky in deep and vivid hue -

Now who could find more beauty in that panoramic view?

In eyes of the beholders,  conclusions are foregone,

but they're like sin down in your heart when scattered on your lawn.

The dandelion and chicory are pesky little weeds.

You might think they are beautiful, but kill those nasty seeds...

And this is how deceptive sins, work down inside the head.

As pretty as a flower's bloom - but ugly so, instead.

Now faithfulness in God alone prevents sin's every trace -

and every kind of sinful weed ...through everlasting grace.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Good Intentions 9-8-12

Our beautiful intentions come when things are not at peace.
Those good intentions carry us.  We like that duties cease.
But beautiful intentions bring us nothing but insults,
to all the great performing tasks that bring about results.

Do thoughts of great intentions come in plans so very swirled
that bind us up as hostages in this old wicked world?
Intentions are the greatest but am I still drawn to sin,
when actions are but only thoughts and work need not begin?

Despite intentions beautiful, We've now begun to hate
these lands of vast utopia on clouds that dissipate.
Our dreams come crashing down when we're deceived that weather's fair.
Foundation's can't be only poured on well intentioned prayer.

What if Christ had good intentions that were not applied
and He had stayed up there in Heav'n and wasn't crucified?
But God has never, never failed and He waits for us still.
Our good intentions won't bring change ...but faithfulness sure will!

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Galatians 5:22,23 (NASB)
22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,
23 gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

September Harvest 9-3-12

After the blizzards and after the drifts,

after the snowbanks and temperature shifts...

After the blossoms from light colored buds,

after the rainstorms and after the floods...

After the heat from the high summer sun,

after the grain that is ripe for autumn...

come September harvest.

When old farmer Elmer is out on his field,

reaping the harvest with plenteous yield,

reminding me fully of lost, lonely souls,

that we need to harvest from Satan's controls.

To he who repents and to he who believes,

to all who accept Him, to all of the sheaves...

come September harvest.

The harvest is plenty with laborers few

but these are the souls that we need to get to.

If we love our neighbors as we ourselves love -

(you must know by now what I'm speaking of...)

For though this big world is in stark opposition,

we recommit fully for this great commission...

come September harvest.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Matthew 28:16-20 (NASB)

The Great Commission
16 But the eleven disciples proceeded to Galilee, to the mountain which Jesus had designated.

17 When they saw Him, they worshiped Him; but some were doubtful.

18 And Jesus came up and spoke to them, saying,

“All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.

19 Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,

20 teaching them to observe all that I commanded you;

and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Zombies 8-19-12

Banana pudding, apple pie,

who wants to leave this place -

with all their friends and family

and each familiar face?

Who wants to leave these comforts now

and change their status quo?

If comforts want no changes, there's

no other place to go...

unless through faith we so believe

in Someone who is more,

in Someone who has paid the price

in Someone to live for.

But woe is he, though wealthy be

if faith is naught, when dies -

for faith is the prerequisite

for life beyond the skies.

And God speaks not through megaphone

nor through a king or queen,

but rather through our faithfulness

from Heavens yet unseen.

A still, small voice will call our names.

Be ready to go home -

for faith knows our direction but

those zombies always roam.

If claim, you are, a zombie not,
 who wanders aimlessly,
 then follow quick that still, small voice
and Heaven you will see.

And if you're not a zombie
but follow God's own Son,
 then love your neighbor as yourself,
attest to everyone.

And if you're not a zombie,
just following the crowd,
then clap your hands and stomp your feet
and praise your Lord out loud!!

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Exodus 14:3

For Pharaoh will say of the sons of Israel, ‘They are wandering aimlessly in the land; the wilderness has shut them in.’

These Humble Words 8-13-12

My Lord and Savior, hear my heart -

a heart that can't ignore,

Your love that chased me all my life

and proved to be much more...

much more than rain drops from above

that fall from all around,

collecting in the ponds and lakes

and oceans that abound,

much more than luscious meadows, green

where horses romp and play

much more than cool, clear bubbling brooks

where little ponies lay,

much more than all the honey found

from bees that roam the hive,

much more than flowers from the plant

with petals bright, alive,

much more than colors on the trees

in autumn's many hue,

of golden yellow, red and orange -

much more than rainbows too.

much more than all the mountain peaks

that touch vast skies of blue

much more than questions I have asked

in prayers I've sent to You,

much more than countless blessings from

Your miracles galore.

Much more than all my faithfulness.

But yet, You send me more,

much more love that I waste on

such silly, selfish stuff.

Yet still, You send me greater love.

I can't love You enough.

Now may these humble words be passed

to everyone You touch,

so they, too, will have hearts to say,

"I love You very much."

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Deuteronomy 6:5
New American Standard Bible (NASB)
5 You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.

Dusk To Dawn 8-10-12

Why at dusk, did Your sunlight set, to overwhelm the blue -

and how did I miss, with sunlight's fade, our dimming friendship too?

Why did the grasses so appear 'greener on the other side'

and how did You seem so far away - beyond such deserts wide?

Why did I always rivers ride, with every twist and bend -

and how was it all futility with needs that never end?

Why did I run my selfish way and how did I cut my path -

right over the worst terrain I found, only to find Your wrath?

Why did Your roses lose their scent and how'd our friendship wilt -

and how, when with repentance here, did truth exacerbate guilt?

Why did I seek man's wisdom when, my stomach grew to yearn

then question straight and narrow path that lost all chance to learn?

Why did my heart seem hardened so and how'd I grow so old -

waiting for all Your answers here in this frigid midnight cold?

Why did the chills surround me so and shiver my every bone

and how did Your stars stare down at me and make me feel alone?

How did the darkness blanket me though moon and stars shone bright

to seemingly mock my presence here?  It didn't seem quite right...

No longer will I cut my path nor crawl through desert sand.

I'll walk along still waters here, beside You, hand in hand.

It's easy to say 'Forgive me', but hard to be sincere,

still harder to walk the narrow, then harder to persevere.

But peering to the Heavens now and awed by what I see -

I'm so content in knowing that, You're right down here with me.

I know Your love, Your faithfulness, Your brilliant haloed face -

and faith reveals that dawn has come with morning sun, Your grace.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Everlasting Tears 8-6-12

With sadness in His furrowed face,

with sorrow in His eyes,

with stench of blood and streaming sweat

with death heard in His cries -

could we not tell, when grimaced He,

in pain we couldn't hear,

in anguish so, He couldn't hold

that first initial tear?

From One so pure and innocent,

from One who suffered loss,

was One who sacrificed for us

on such a wicked cross,

where one tear found an opening,

accompanied by more -

to open up the floodgates there,

as never seen before.

But were the tears that Jesus shed

from just the pain He bore?

Or were the tears that soaked His face

from something even more?

They were not tears of happiness,

or stirred up tears of joy.

They were not tears of anger's rage

or tears that would destroy.

His tears were mixed with sweat and blood

that poured down from His face,

then dripped upon His heaving chest

and quickened to a place -

a place where burdens rested,

a place so torn apart,

but place sincere and sacred too -

His heavy laden heart.

A mother knows the pain of love

when children disobey.

She'll cry for hours, days and weeks.

There is no other way -

no other way to share her tears

than blend them in a prayer,

and send them up to Jesus where,

they mix with His tears there.

So take a look at Jesus' tears

and do they not comprise,

of grace and vast eternal love

just like a mother's eyes?

Produce a single tear, can I,

acknowledging my years,

that Jesus sacrificed for me,

in everlasting tears?

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Understand? 8-5-12

Just seek ye- and ye shall find!
Each word here is important -

So stay on top your toes! 

Unless you're wide awake, you'll lose -

So let's see how this goes.

Let's just play a little game

Of, let's see.... "Hide and Seek".

Very soon you'll see it clear,

Emerging with a peek.
So if ye seek God's kingdom,
You'll find His loving hand.

(Only read first letters in each line.  You'll

Understand).

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Matthew 6 (KJV)

33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness;

and all these things shall be added unto you.

From Where I Sit 8-3-12

Up on the high majestic hill,

stands one great mighty oak,

that seems to mimic something else -

a world of prideful folk.

Some think that sin is not so bad,

they think it's overblown -

but I can feel that screaming wind

from Satan's megaphone.

Oh, we all know man's clanging wars -

his taxed and tortured slaves -

his used, abused or beaten spouse -

the sinful life he paves -

that plows up God's great symphony

with Adam's clumsy ox -

and pummels us with angry words

or painful, sinful rocks.

But God's created orchestra -

all people, black and white -

all babies born (or soon to be)

and elders have a right -

a right to live on God's great earth

in peace and harmony.

But pride seeks greater powers and

rejects humility.

From where I sit, I always see

His beauty deep within,

His loving, graceful handiwork -

though plundered so, with sin.

God's handiwork from birds to fish

and mammals great and small -

still bless me with their beauty here.

I see His work in all.

And when I think my Loving God,

has nothing more to give -

He pours out love in greater grace,

so ready to forgive -

where even I, through heavy heart,

so tearfully repent -

and seek that perfect sacrifice,

who God already sent.

A rhythm rolls with springtime breeze

across this valley pass -

right over meadow here below

and through His humble grass.

In unison, harmonic notes

from orchestra below -

still wave to those on mighty hill,

to folks who need to know...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Precious Time 7-24-12

(from a woman's perspective )

So handsome is my smiling man.
I find him quite a guy.
The months and years begin to roll
as precious time slips by...

I try to build that perfect life.
No matter how I try,
I learn this is no perfect world
as precious time slips by...

So beautiful, the Heavens are,
that share the starry sky.
I search for many answers there
as precious time slips by...

But winds contour the heated sands.
My words grow faint and dry.
The sand runs through my fingers too
as precious time slips by...

And frigid is the northwest front.
My tears freeze when I cry.
It finds me blind and unprepared
as precious time slips by...

So wonderful, that smiling man -
but years, we could not buy.
Though handsome as the day we met,
our precious time slipped by...

And now my loved one passed away.
Through tears I say, "Good bye"
but cling to pride and humble not,
as precious time slips by...

Yet patiently, my Lord still knocks.
His love, the reason why.
Will I ignore or answer Him?
My precious time slips by...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Just Another Angel 7-23-12

(based on a true story this morning, Monday, July 23, 2012.  The pastor is 91)

His wife and son were in the store.

He shuffled past me twice.

My eyes were red.  I hid my face.

I wanted no advice.

He must have sensed my emptiness

as I was feeling low -

because he sat down next to me.

I had nowhere to go.

We both were thinking our own thoughts

and neither said a word -

until his son walked up to us

and this is what I heard...

"My dad was once a pastor -

and had been several years.

He helped so many countless souls

and quenched their many fears."

Just then his wife came up to him

and said, "I'm ready now."

It had an impact over me.

Right then, I knew not how.

The pastor said some simple words

as he stood up to leave.

He simply said, "God loves you and

He wants you to believe."

He turned, began to walk away,

so I said, "Thank you much."

At that, he smiled and said goodbye.

I felt a loving touch.

A touch that cannot be described

in just a word or two -

but cures the lowest, broken heart

when it hears, "God loves you."

Was this a pure coincidence?

Were these words meant to be,

from just another angel sent,

from God, to earth - for me?

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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When We Don't Talk 7-13-12

I know that you get busy with the things that have to be,

but oh, if you could put yourselves in my shoes so you'd see...

a world imploding inward and- that leaves me high and dry,

a world that's ever-changing and- still makes me hurt and cry.

Again, another tune is heard. Another text arrives.

You're tuning out the real world, ignoring real lives.

Oblivious to what's around, engrossed inside your games,

you wouldn't really know it if your house was up in flames.

Bad habits, you're addicted to- on games of every kind,

on tunes and 'apps' that master you- control and seize your mind.

You're focused on your chat or text- and yes, that's really why

you cannot hear the words I speak or look me in the eye.

There's many little gadgets in, your world of make-believe.

They hold your full attention in, that world so hard to leave.

But one day you will not escape. Temptation's underneath,

where it conceives great weeping and- the gnashing too, of teeth.

I do not need those gadgets there, but oh, I love to hear

your "please's" and your "thank you's" as- you pray from year to year.

My pain was most unbearable when I was crucified,

so don't forget to talk to Me and set your world aside.

---

Yes, pain is quite unbearable, when children do not call.

They think our conversations are, most trivial and small.

This poem is about a world that will grow gravely grim -

and now we know, how Jesus feels- when we don't talk to Him...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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1 Thessalonians 5: 12-22 (NASB)

12 But we request of you, brethren, that you appreciate those who diligently labor among you,

and have charge over you in the Lord and give you instruction,

13 and that you esteem them very highly in love because of their work.

Live in peace with one another.

14 We urge you, brethren, admonish the unruly, encourage the fainthearted,

help the weak, be patient with everyone.

15 See that no one repays another with evil for evil,

but always seek after that which is good for one another and for all people.

16 Rejoice always;

17 pray without ceasing;

18 in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

19 Do not quench the Spirit; 20 do not despise prophetic utterances.

21 But examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good;

22 abstain from every form of evil.

Chasing Dreams 7-9-12

I ran through life - got thrown off-guard -
and stumbled over dreams so hard.
With future bright and never dim -
if only I had followed Him.

Yet Christ is found among the crowds
and penetrates my darkest clouds.
Though marred in sin as black as coal,
He lifted me, my wicked soul.

His endless love flows as the breeze,
He holds secure with cradled ease.
He rocks us close on clouds aloft,
with loving grace in arms so soft.

Yet we still choose to trip and fall,
oh, how we think we know it all -
and then complain when we get hurt.
But Christ can lift us from the dirt...

Do I still choose to chase my dreams?
So busy are these times, it seems.
Did I repent? I knew I ought -
but time I had - or so I thought...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Luke 13 (NASB)

1 Now on the same occasion there were some present who reported to Him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. 2 And Jesus said to them, “ Do you suppose that these Galileans were greater sinners than all other Galileans because they suffered this fate? 3 I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. 4 Or do you suppose that those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them were worse culprits than all the men who live in Jerusalem? 5 I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”

6 And He began telling this parable: “A man had a fig tree which had been planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and did not find any. 7 And he said to the vineyard-keeper, ‘Behold, for three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree without finding any. Cut it down! Why does it even use up the ground?’ 8 And he answered and said to him, ‘Let it alone, sir, for this year too, until I dig around it and put in fertilizer; 9 and if it bears fruit next year, fine; but if not, cut it down.’”

My Pastor 7-2-12

My pastor, I will not forget,
and wasn't my first choice,
to lead my favorite gospel hymns
with his low, raspy voice.

He couldn't seem to keep a beat
or hit a single note.
He once admitted to us all,
he sounded like a goat!

At times, the sermon, he'd forget.
Sometimes he'd drop his cane.
Most thought he was a special man -
but some, a bit insane.

Though he was sometimes questioned by
his well-intentioned peers,
a wisdom came to flourish from
vast Bible-reading years.

He often had a part-time job,
yet seemed to be around,
to answer all my crazy calls
with questions more profound.

Although he eased my fears and pain,
he had fears of his own.
Because we never heard complaints,
his ills were rarely known.

He sometimes lost his glasses and
the few announcements too.
His pocket watch would sometimes stop.
He fell a time or two.

His clumsiness was obvious,
He spilled his water cup.
Though Satan tried distracting him,
he never did give up.

So preach, he did, each Sunday morn,
through babies cries or cough.
He'd speak awhile and then some more,
'till grandpa dozed right off.

His speech would race, emotions great -
he'd tell us of God's Son,
who had to die to save the lost -
for me and everyone.

Once grandpa 'sawed his logs' quite loud.
Who knew what grandpa dreamed?
Yet pastor never missed a beat.
So futile preaching seemed.

Sometimes I'd reminisce when he
would knock on grandpa's door -
to visit him when he was sick,
then here, dismiss his snore.

But higher still, than grandpa's snore -
his words echoed above.
He'd pound down on my hardened heart
the softness of God's love.

I'll not forget his alter calls,
his passioned plea, to come -
to lay my every burden down -
so Christian, I'd become.

And one thing more I'll not forget,
in sermons through the weeks -
that he loved every one of us -
the proof ran down his cheeks.

My pastor, I will not forget.
He wasn't my first choice.
Delighted, though, I'd be again
to hear that raspy voice.

***

We love you pastor. You're sincere.

Oh, how we all recall,

the many ways we challenged you.

You rose above it all.

There's so much more you did for us.

Compassion you could share.

You've 'walked the talk' so faithfully,

so this begins our prayer...

"Dear Jesus, hear us. Give this man

a very special place.

You'll know him when you see him there -

for he reflects Your grace.

Today, we'll reminisce and miss,

past times that slipped away.

We thank you for our pastor and,

his very special way..."

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Hopelessly Helpless? 6-28-12

I woke up from sleeping and found myself eating

a piece of old barley bread.

While feeding on breakfast, I thought it most unjust

that yours was a warm one instead.

Though willow branch bends, it cannot make amends

to a place that I'm sitting between.

A rock and a hard place that's hopeless to face -

and torment, the greatest I've seen.

My great sacrifice just wouldn't suffice.

These shoes that I wear aren't by choice.

"We can't refinance" was the bank's 'song and dance'

but who would hear my little voice?

Despite life-long effort, they're selling me short,

my business at such a great cost.

The bank never spared because they hadn't cared,
hence millions of dollars were lost.

So don't store up treasures for everyday pleasures,

in things of this earth that will rust.

The great love of money has never been funny,

for only in God should we trust.

It's so disconcerting my children are hurting,

yet hopelessly helpless I am.

Despite expectations to pay obligations,

I now can't help any of them.

I sit in the shade of these problems banks made.

This willow tree weeps with me too.

The moral of story is not really gory

if we've learned a lesson or two.

Those decades of years bring me sad lonely tears

for they took everything that I had.

But what greater loss - than was Christ's on the cross?

I maybe don't have it so bad.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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