The Reward

The “end” is over,
Timeline erased.
Life ran o’er its course;

Heart completed the race.

One last beating.

One last exhale.
One final eye-blink.
Life ends its brief trail.

What more can be done?

What remains beyond?
Mere mem’ries recalled
At setting of sun.

A psalm said o’er life.

A psalm said o’er death.
Prophecy fulfilled,
Shepherd’s love begets.

Mem’ries of Shepherd’s love;

What was now and not yet,
Becomes now and always
As with Shepherd, they sit.

The Lord is my Shepherd,

Said with understanding in full.
He laid them down in green pastures,
Just as He led them by waters still.

He refreshed and restored them

And led them on righteous paths.
The Shepherd gave them peace and calm,
Walking with them, with His rod and staff.

Before eyes of their enemies

Made He a table for His own.
Anointed their heads with oil;
Son and daughter, He made it known.

Faithful and faultless,

Merciful and good,
The Shepherd never left them;
Through their days of life, He always stood.

Breath and heartbeat gone forever.

Timeline faded away.
Eternity stretched before them,
Because of the Ancient of Days.

Surely goodness and mercy followed them

Through the length of their days.
The “not yet” is now theirs,
To God, we now praise.

     For being their Shepherd,
     the One who gave rest and led.
     For being their Savior,
     their Restorer and Righteousness.
     For being their Conqueror,
     their Peace, Rod, and Staff.
     For being their Provider,
     their Defense and Holiness.
     For being their God
     all their days and night.

To them, all that was, their timeline ran out.

The days of their “not yet” have begun without end.

The reward of a life consecrated by God?

Forever hearing “well done” and eternity with the King,
Singing with the angels, “Praise God and Amen!”

In their lives, they sang with men.

Now with the angels, this song never ends:

The Lord is my Shepherd;

I did not want.
He laid me down in green pastures;
He led me beside still waters.
He restored my soul.
He led me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Yes, though I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I did not fear evil because You were with me;
Your rod and staff comforted me.
You prepared a table for me in the presence of my enemies.
You anointed my head with oil; my cup overflowed.
Surely goodness and mercy followed me all the days of my life.
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.

Downhilling Days

Aging and ending are oft avoided stories

The pain, the loss of independence

The fear of future always present

Confrontive nature replacing meek and calm.

Onlookers see, but do not really know that

Beloved child tries to help, is rebuffed

Offers of aid not given off the cuff

Great love enters thought with every assist.

Mornings awaken with great possibility

Fresh air, birds’ calls, gentle breezes blow

Deep breaths, twinkling eyes, promises sow

Before talking between family members.

First word, bite or balm, the silence broken

Confused thought, intention mixed, gasping

Spoken word a dart, wound fresh, hurt lasts

Then silence comes as confusion takes its place.

Time slips on, sun downhills, bright eyes dim

Sluggish and tired, weight of years, head sags

Feet plod forward, shoulders droop, heart lags

Though body weary, mind asks where went the day.

Time shifts forward, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter

Crisp was the day, how children did play

Mem’ries so vivid, leaves, blossoms, gone gray

Sadness conflicts with gaiety of life’s Spring.

Puzzled, broken, aging, life’s tokens of time

Questions in eyes beam as tears glisten

Unasked thoughts, fears, endless wondering

Until last night’s breath and thought gently caress.

The soft touch, the caress of time’s gentle kiss

Leaves faint shadows of life’s mem’ries made

Echo they down fam’ly’s hist’ry laid

As quilt pieces of lives lived out and replayed.

Lives go on in the memories of those who survive. At times, faint whispers and others laughter, but echo, they do. Those memories show love for the one so dear. They show respect for that one though confused, worn, dimmed, and aged. We must make sure love and respect flow toward this one so dear while he, she, is with us within heart’s beat within breath’s whisper he can hear. Whether in youth’s gaiety or life’s sun-downhilling days, love that one before his, her, sunset draws near.

“Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged; parents are the pride of their children.” (Proverbs 17:6 [NLT])

“Stand up in the presence of the elderly, and show respect for the aged. Fear your God.  I am the Lord.” (Leviticus 19:32 [NLT])

“Listen to your father, who gave you life, and don’t despise your mother when she is old.” (Proverbs 23:22 [NLT])

“Therefore, we do not lose heart,; but indeed if our outward man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day.” (2 Corinthians 4:16 [NASB])

The River Between Us

A spark, a stir, and itch to scratch,

A need to write with no theme upon my mind.

Always thinking of God, about whom I write.

That theme, my greatest interest all the time.

I want more, reflect feelings, to call soul to soul.

Reaching out, reaching for more, want to know what;

Upon what should I reflect, write, offer a thought;

My mind queries, fumbles, grapples, deeply it sought.

Feelings available, at hand, there are many

On whom to focus, consider love, different with each one.

Sister, mother, brother, husband, son and daughter,

Each spark a primary color, the major flame, of that dear one.

Love, the balloon, around each family member,

Crackles, envelopes, embraces, as life evolves.

Rarely does a feeling burst the outer boundary.

Comfort, cushion, life’s safe-haven, love covers all.

When in time storms arise and we falter,

Seeking strength, steady hands and arms, hearts embrace.

Calling out in fear and hope, the light of love’s aglimmer,

Fainting, shaking, sweating, fear’s erased.

What one says cannot remove a life’s experience,

Even if strong winds and actions blur the lines.

As a son or daughter of God almighty,

Love’s never vanquished but stands the test of time.

Those strained boundaries of heart relations,

Bound and strengthened by the might of God’s hands,

Keep the love alive when hope seems vanquished,

Pulsing stronger as God calls His own to stand.

Reaching forward, grasping with His strength,

How can they be here at my deepest need?

God the Father, never leaves or abandons;

His depth of love flows through His child from His mercy seat.

No matter the pull or strain of a loved one,

God’s love still can flow through one straying, but never gone.

Each, if honest, recognizes this eternal truth;

For God is the Model of faithful, enduring love.

Though straying never snatched forever,

God won’t allow His child to be lost, alone;

Just as we turn our backs to Him and He loves us,

So we can love holding strong to our loved one.

Ruptured relations, broken hearts and promises

Don’t break ties forever with those we love;

Because God’s love is the river we share between us,

When in need, our relations know our love’s there to carry them on.

Rana's Story

The chubby-cheeked face peeks out of the clothes that warms it and smiles at the love emanating from his mother’s face. He peers to his other side and sees his sister bouncing in place as she looks at him expectantly. The man he’s come to recognize and whose voice booms from the depths of his chest is not visible. Still, he feels secure. Why shouldn’t he? Rana’s world is small. He recognizes just the people who cherish him most. Still, something seems not right. From the look at his sister, nothing appears to be wrong, but a second glance at his mother’s face, her tightly clenched hands, and her worried eyes speak of something he doesn’t know. Rana hears crying, but it’s not him…and it doesn’t come just from one place. Cries bounce against the mud-brick walls and flow liquidly from hut to hut. To Rana, these cries are about more than wanting food. Even in his short life, he recognizes cries from the heart, not just the belly. Could his father’s absence be related to this reverberating and piercing outcry among the walls of huts?

Days would pass, Rana and his sister, Roxana, would become familiar with others holding, feeding, and watching over them. Nights of long walks and whispers would become the new norm for Rana and Roxana. Days of hiding in bushes and having hands cover their mouths felt suffocating. Where is Papa? Why doesn’t Mama smile anymore? Where did the joy in Roxana’s face and walk go?

Many dark days and weeks have passed. Mama doesn’t cry in the dark anymore. Roxana doesn’t dance anymore. She sits and stares blankly at the ground. I cry, but am not always heard. Papa is missing from the family still. Life, it seems, is not easy.

My clothing is tight. My ears have learned many new sounds. Sounds of bass booms and rapid-fire pellets hitting trees. I have missed hearing the birds and fear the sounds of the night animals. I wish Papa was here. I would be safe. Will I ever be safe again?

Roxana would have been 6 today. I miss seeing her face full of joy and her bounce of excitement. Mama tells me she was too small and too sick. She went to Papa, wherever he is. Mama never smiles anymore. She always looks for roots and bugs. I wish we could eat the food my people tell me they used to eat. For now, I am always hungry; a little bug or a stick lined with them is not enough to fill my stomach. Even Mama notices I am small for my age. The clothes I wear as a four-year-old are Roxana’s clothes from when she was two. What must life have been like back home, wherever home was?

Today, I am a man; I am thirteen. Mama and Papa are not here to celebrate with me. Roxana was too small and sick. No more voices of laughter and love echo around me; I am without family. I live as part of the group of orphan boys. We take care of ourselves…mostly. It would be nice to have a Mama and Papa. I see others who are Mamas and Papas and wish I had one of them, too. Maybe then I could feel a hug, see joy, eat meat, celebrate life. Maybe one day, I will get to be with Mama, Papa, and Roxana again. The other Mamas say not to talk like that, but I want what they were to me. I want family.