"Living The Christian Life is NOT a bed of roses"

I read the title of this ode

And MOST would think "How true"

However, I have ALWAYS felt,

Applies NOT, to me and you.

For when you see some roses,

From 'far, they look so fine,

Everything is radiant,

This rose garden of mine.

BUT, . . . . for that garden t'flourish well,

The 'Gardener' MUST work hard,

Pruning deadened leaves and blooms

Their bountiousness to guard.

His work, not JUST the pruning,

The deadened twigs, remove,

But also their surroundings,

So roots, their Source, can prove.

There also are those prickly thorns

To tear your skin apart,

If e'er (or WHEN) you barge right in

And don't think with the heart.

HE is the constant 'pruner'

So WE will look our best,

Give 'Gardener' HIS glory,

'til we gain, eternal rest.

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Christmas Past

Gifts of gold, incense and myrrh For that baby lying there Were not gifts without much thought, Significant references, they brought. GOLD , for riches of a king, Of properties e'erlasting ring, To celebrate the Kingly birth, Who came as man upon the earth. FRANKINCENSE came from the east For th'annointing of a priest, This babe, a Prophet, Priest and King, Eternal life for all to bring. MYRRH was given, though bitter it's taste, Preparing for the death to be faced, The purpose of His life, - the Cross, To save the world from eternal loss. The media bombard with ads., Pushing forth the latest fads, The parents now seem under stress, They're spending more, though giving less. Oh to live in bygone days Though cash was scarce, with less in pays, The children, then, were quite content And knew what Christmas really meant

I love you dad.

I told my dad, while on his bed, assuming he did sleep, In hospital, [ he'd not come home ] with tears my eyes did weep, “I love you dad” Then hugged him tight, while feebly he replied “I.............love...............you................too..............son” THAT’S the thing I cherish, since he died. With forty years age difference, while young, we were not close. He wasn't very tactile and nor was he verbose, But as we aged, did closer grow, in ways he’d show his love, We’ll meet again, don’t know the ‘when’, – the ‘where’? – in Heaven above. I then went out to my car after this and bawled my eyes out at having had this special moment.

A Father's Blessing

As youngest son, I always sensed From many of the brothers, True or not, they’d put me down, I wasn’t like the others. A few days prior to passing on, A blessing I was giv’n From my beloved, aged dad, Before he moved to Heav’n. His health was failing faster now The family rallied 'round, My eldest bro from ‘cross the sea, Was heading ‘homeward bound’. While visiting, - a daily rit, To spend some ‘qual’ty time’, I mentioned ‘bout th'upcoming trip, I’ll ne’er forget this line. “You’ll not need me tomorrow night To visit with you, dad, Your number

Rhyme & Reason - a reason to rhyme

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