In Memory of Jeffrey Slimmer
Written for Janice Slimmer and her family
The City of Maple Grove flew a flag half-staff for Jeffrey this past week.
They honored him in dignity – something he, himself, would never seek.
In so doing, they waved goodbye to a faithful, valued one,
And represented waves of loss for this husband, father, brother, son.
One wave was of joy – that fun for life, draped gracefully around his smile,
And another wave of help summoned him to assist folks in life’s mile.
The wave of a father who stationed his love, which he thoroughly enjoyed.
Blew in one direction for those he loved, from this precious mother’s boy.
His wave would strike as a hunter’s bow and always met the mark
Of lasting friendship and family love that death can never part.
There’s another flag that has flown within this darkened time and sphere.
It is the flag of faith in Christ, which lifts each one that’s here.
The flag of faith waved Jeffrey on and gave strength to Jan inside.
It rested in the Father’s arms, where he forever will abide.
A flag at half-staff reminds us all that one no longer here will roam,
But the flag of faith stands us up for the Sovereign who’s at home.
Jesus, who is King of all, lived in Jeffrey’s heart to share.
Now Jeff’s waving praise and thanks to God, for he’s safe at home up there.
We were glad to have this time together.
To have fun, and not just store your stuff.
You’ve been helpful, fun, and animated,
And we hope for you it’s not been rough.
We were glad to hear you scream and giggle,
Cause it’s just the way we think of you.
Though the “Bandaids” help keep you together –
It is fun to see you come unglued.
We hope your new home is warm and cozy,
And that you will feel real safe and free.
We hope you do know now, we have loved to have you.
Maybe now you’ll finally get some sleep.
(Written with love and affection by Jean Halvorson for Dianne Schmandt on September 2, 1994).
Above us marks the glory of unending skies of space.
A painting with its stroking, of the unseen hand of grace.
Its form becomes a picture, when the brush waves o’er its place.
Of the one who first brought life to them, when he framed it in its case
Soon the clouds will not just give form, for these particles they trace.
They will roll back wide and present to all
The sight of God’s redeeming face.
In Memory of Mark Turnidge
Two years have come upon us –
This journey that did start
When Mark’s whole world was punctured,
stabbing every hurting heart.
These two years seem like a vapor,
yet his shadow’s lingered long.
He’s safe in the vault of heaven
where our treasure does belong.
The flicker of the life he lived will stay
inside the flame.
For memory warms the hearts of those
who cherish Mark’s dear name.
When everything around looks bad – don’t give up.
When your heart is down and feeling sad – don’t give up.
If you’ve exhausted all resources fair –
You’re sensing dread, your soul is bare.
When you don’t know what else you can do – don’t give up.
When everyone around you says “Just give up”.
Don’t let that message lead the way – don’t give up.
The crushing load, despairing cry.
You seek to know, you wonder why.
When you don’t think you can more endure – don’t give up.
When looking down or all around – now look up.
Your helper is the one above – just look up.
When you know you’ve given all you can,
Decide to put it in His hands.
If it’s about self, or life, or God – DON’T GIVE UP!
Sh . . . Sh . . . Don’t tell – this starts the game.
At finished line, “me” ends in shame.
Mostly a “sham”, no thoughts can tame,
Unless exposed, becomes my name.
The aim within, though letters changed,
A dart of self-reflex arranged.
To shield from this, its piercing blow,
We look at Him, Who long ago
Looked down at shame from His own cross,
Dispelled the shame at His own cost.
Though it’s been years since I’ve seen him,
I never did forget.
This funny guy, the witty lines.
I’m very glad we met.
The “do ats” boy, who never ceased to make all people laugh.
But, there was so much more to him, we never knew the half.
I saw the first cake he did make – vivid colors upon white.
The red, blue, green strokes that he made –
it sure was very bright.
So here today, this is for him,
I’m not ashamed to share.
He’s gone too soon, good by old friend.
I hope you knew we cared.
Written for Diane Hofstede, an only child.
The gardener looked quite puzzled while surveying flowery bed.
The toil endured from daybreak prompted, “There’s no blossoms here”, he said.
Suddenly one flower unfolded. All alone, its captured scent sprayed its mist,
the sweetest fragrance, a glorious aroma as it went.
Though it seemed alone in number, it declared a message strong:
Where there’s one, the growth is present as it hums its floral song.
At first glance the ground seemed empty; no real hope upon the scene,
but the bud reveals the future – precious transplant so serene.
Here the flower stands like a statue, with a focus on its hue.
Flourishing, transcending landscape in this garden reflecting pool.
Let no contrary voice be uttered in the value of this grace,
for true richness coats each petal of the flower of her face.
Everywhere the flower is planted, blossoms sprout in those around.
Single floral bouquet sonnet sets a table where she’s found.
Still the garden blooms in full view, while it moves within her will.
There the flower looms much larger than the garden on the hill.
A year now passing through the night, expectancy foretold.
Of future pages written while the past book we did fold.
Each year we’re given a brand new start, to live what last we learned.
It is our time to choose which leaf we each will surely turn.
Embrace new chapter, it’s a gift; a second chance, in verse.
Let God, The Author, fill it in; He gave it to you first.
Moments are minutes that last in the heart.
Moments are birthed from a Mom at the start.
From the scent of her food to the warmth of her touch,
Mom made moments live on, which we love very much.
She gave some of the greatest life moments to share,
All because the word moments has “Mom” tucked in there.
