Together against the world!

Sunset

Eagle Flight

Days of old

The days of old link

Nature's Birth

A poem using synonyms by Clint Gardner 2008

******


How fresh is the birth of a child.
Like a breeze drifting in off the Sea.
We welcomed our new son with joy,
The first time his face we could see.

We had longed for the chance to be present,
When his first earthly cry we would hear.
And we thank our great God for his grace & his love
That allowed that we could be here.

For this is a time like no other,
Like the rise of the bright morning sun.
When the Doctor brings forth, and lays in our arms
The infant; our God given son!

Like the beauty of Nature’s first light,
That enlightens a tall mountain peak.
For our eyes they were both filled with awe…
When we took of our child our first peek.

As the warmth of the sun comes alive,
Like a flower that’s touched by the bee.
What a blessing to see, the potential indeed,
That inside of this child there might be!

As the sound of a clear mountain stream,
Trickles on as the waters run by;
I’m reminded by God’s purest flow…
That there’s moments in life you can’t buy.

For here is the essence of life…
A child, so tiny and lite.
But it holds in its soul, the greatest of gifts,
The lantern of God’s precious light!

As morning arrives, and the sun moves across
The meadow…revealing the dew.
You know in your heart, that there’s nothing in life,
That will limit what this child could do.

The flowers that lie in the meadow so bright,
Seem aligned in neat little rows.
And God must be great to have given to me…
This child that came forth from a Rose!

How mighty’s the forest that covers the land,
Its secret: the strength of the wood.
God give me the strength to lead my new son…
Down the path that God’s destiny would.

When I look to the heaven’s in the afternoon sky,
See the sunset, whose beauty we knew.
Then we marvel to think that this small little child…
Is from God, and a blessing so new.

Our new little boy, asleep in my arms,
I scarcely can guess what he weigh.
But the glory of life surrounds us each day,
And I know God will show us the way.

So next time you’re out in the world that we share,
Look around, take a moment or two…
To look at the mountains, the trees, and the sky,
Then, you’ll... see his majesty too.

‘Cause I can’t help but look, at this small little child,
And realize the gift that we’ve won…
A gift that is greater than Nature itself,
Is our child, our blessing, our son!

Meet our new son: Ethan Arthur Gardner




.

Lonely Lake by Joyce Kennedy

It was the name given it on our hiking map. Intrigued,
we followed a narrow, rising trail flecked with autumn,
aspen leaves beneath our feet, young trees leaning across
as if to guard the integrity of loneliness. At the end,
we found the lake, small jewel shining in space, not
obviously frequented, although there was a rickety
dock and on it, a battered rowboat and dented canoe.
No paddles. We sat, one in rowboat, one in canoe,
the loneliness of the lake pared down to bare essentials—
shore lined with thick, dark pine, intense and cloudless sky,
sun flaring on water's changing surface. A hawk dipped
down to startle the peace while two ducks rode the ripples
unperturbed. Stunned by beauty, we reached across—
boat to canoe, canoe to boat—to touch hands,
our own lonely selves connecting as lightly and effortlessly
as the dragonfly wing that earlier brushed against my face.

Why? by Dr. Jack Hyles

Always has been one of my favorite's:

I was in Mansfield. Ohio, sitting on a platform about to speak. The Pastor of the church where I was speaking leaned over and whispered to me that there was a certain lady in the back whose husband had cancer. He asked me to pray for her and for him. After the service, several people came by to express their burdens and heartaches and divulge the loads they carried. I went to my room and thought of the many people in my own church who carry similar loads. My mind settled on one particular one who just a few days before had looked through tears toward me to ask, "Why, Pastor, why?" These meditations caused me to sit in my motel room one Labor Day afternoon and pen the following lines:

I have sat beside a tiny crib,
And watched a baby die,
As parents slowly turned toward me,
To ask, "Oh, Pastor, why?"

I have held the youthful husband's head,
And felt death's heave and sigh.
A widow looked through tears and said,
"Dear Pastor, tell me why?"

I have seen a gold-star mother weep,
And hold a picture nigh
Her lonely breast, and softly ask,
"Why? Pastor, why, oh, why?"

I have walked away from babyland,
Where still-born babies lie.
A mother stretches empty arms,
And asks me, "Pastor, why?"

I have watched my drunken Father leave
Our home, and say "good-bye,"
While looking into Mother's face
I asked, "Please tell me why?"

I have heard the white-tipped tapping cane,
Which leads a blinded eye.
And then a darkened, lonely voice
Cries, Preacher, show me why."

I have caught a fiancee's burning tears,
And heard her lonely cry.
She held an unused wedding gown,
And shouted, "Pastor, why?"

I have heard the cancer patient say,
" 'Tis gain for me to die;"
Then look into his daughter's face,
And mutely whisper, "Why?"

I have seen a father take his life,
A widow stands nearby;
As little children say, "Dear Mom,
The Preacher'll tell us why."

I've seen my mother stand beside
Two tiny graves and cry.
And though she's never let me know,
I knew she wondered, "Why?"

I've heard an orphan faintly say,
Who gazed into the sky,
"Tho Mom and Dad have gone away,
My Preacher will know why."

I tiptoed to my Father's throne,
So timid and so shy,
To say, "Dear God, some of Your own
Are wanting to know why."

I heard him say so tenderly,
"Their eyes I'll gladly dry,
Tho they must look through faith today,
Tomorrow they'll know why."

"If now they find the reasons that
Their hopes have gone awry,
In Heaven, they will miss the joy
Of hearing Me tell why."

And so I've found it pleases Him
When I can testify,
"I'll trust my God to do what's best,
And wait to find out why."