To sit down and dine at the table of the Master;
That is true Christianity.
To take that treasure, share and serve it to
those who are hungry;
That is true Ministry.
To linger at that table and commune with the Master;
That is pure devotion.
To share that time with a fellow servant of God;
That is a godly friendship.
How come a copier or fax picks just the perfect time,
To quit their work, to poop right out.
It’s just a common crime.
First thing, it does not break down when
The technician “Quickly” comes.
But when they’re gone –
Oh me, oh my!
You hear that dreaded “hmmm”.
It’s if, as though, that man-made lark knows just
When to work good.
It’s like it says to you right then:
“I’d work right if I could”.
“I can’t break down for fix-it man,
Because he may so do.
Get rid of me for something else.
Replace with something new.”
“I must work well, at least as far
As fix-it man can know.
So what, that all else are perturbed,
I don’t want to be let go.”
A birthday is a great time
To remind people
That God continues to unwrap
The wonders He has placed inside,
The egg split – that’s division.
One plus one equals two – that’s addition.
Two times so much fun in life – is multiplication.
Multiple times where love took away the sorrow – that’s subtraction.
We are back to two who came from one – that’s a mystery.
One egg.
One birthdate.
One Creator.
One golden precious treasure of a sister.
I’m so glad God figured you and me in this equation.
I love you.
I never noticed it before, a striped, with golden glow.
A picture I walked by each day. How could I miss it so?
Wrapped around its ordered frame-the sturdy, gold-like plate.
Perfectly precise inside, a tiger so sedate.
Our world is saturated with the busy and forelorn.
What a declaration of despair, to miss what is before.
Amazing how we pass right by and look, but miss the chance
Of beholding exquisite works of art because we merely glance.
Perhaps it would do us well to stop and look around.
Our eyes may fix on something that we’ve rarely ever found.
A brooch accents an outfit
In a lovely touch so fine.
I think of those you’ve given me
And I’m honored they are mine.
You, dear Sylvia, are a pin
Displaying love and fun.
You touch us all with your great warmth.
You show beauty through the Son.
The lion may be wounded, but he’s not injured in his pride,
For his family and friends, supportive care, is a place where he can hide. With prayers ascending on your behalf, the lion stirs its mane
And we are grateful to lift in prayer your private, personal name.
The lion’s roared for all those years, now hear the sound return
Of those who are there just for you–a lesson life has learned.
So, as you fight this battle, of the future and what’s in store,
Jesus, “The Lion of the Tribe of Judah”, will plead your case once more.
A bad hair day, a real scare day.
When strands look like they’re fried.
The “socket look” is so divine,
It sweeps upward in time.
A bad hair day, now stay away.
You’ll wonder what’s my kind.
A troll, a magnet, static thing,
The bride of Frankenstein.
A bad hair day, now don’t delay.
Go wash that wig again.
But then this time you’re still surprised.
Your hair’s gone down the drain.
When baby pictures surface, you fall back to simpler times.
When life was new and biting did not constitute a crime.
The picture is a print of sorts, like fingerprints provide.
They show there’s no one else like you, unless one is at your side.
Imagine just how precious this is what me and my twin share.
The picture’s not fully complete unless my dear sis is there.
Today is the anniversary of Armistice Day, that day when the peace treaty with Germany
was signed for the western front in 1917.
The term “Armistice” is from the Latin “arma”, meaning “weapons and stadium; a truce.”
That truce was fully realized in the European theater on June 28, 1919 in Versaille, France, officially ending World War I — also called the “War to end all wars.”
Our dad was born four years before this truce and mom was born one year later. Their
births were surrounded by war and peace.
This is a great reminder to turn our attention to the battle that has raged for the soul of man. Here we find the resting place of our parents, who each found their treaty of peace with the Savior. It was signed with the blood of Jesus and still avails today.
Jesus signed the Armistice of Peace on the cross of Calvary; mom and dad each ratified it with their choice to sign on for peace from the battle that waged against them.
The devil was finished on the cross, but the actual culmination of the peace treaty from heaven will find its Versaille when the last person on this earth accepts the finished work of Calvary.
Mom and dad found peace; now let’s make sure we each have peace — peace in Christ,
most importantly, and peace from the battle that wages around this soil.
Jesus provided the truce. Now we need to sign up to make its effect into our lives.
