Call Me Bruce

I’m Chuck Norris with a 250 pound, 5′ 11″ 59 year old body,

Look me in the eye.

If I was younger and my physique was not so shoddy,

You’d see my fists can fly.

I’m Albert Einstein and Ravi Zacharias all rolled into one,

My wisdom known near and far.

Of course today I can’t even remember

Where the keys are for my car.

I am the politician with all the answers for mankind,

My popularity is soaring,

Yet while I preach from the pulpit on any given Sunday,

I hear somebody snoring.

Here I come just a walking down the street

With a million dollar smile.

Little do the people who see me know

I can barely walk a mile.

If I could only be the man up in my head,

I would be John Wayne, Tozer, and Carey Grant,

Of course those guys are dead.

Thanks for listening to me rant.

 

A Hole In One

Out he went with his dream to make the changes

And strapped to his waist was the old 45.

The star he wore was made of tin but his heart was gold

And from that heart his dream stayed alive.

But on that day when the sun stood still and the birds ceased their song

He drew that old black powder Colt a millisecond too long.

Oh it discharged a chunk of lead alright, about 250 grain,

But after one small ricochet it landed in his brain.

The whole town mourned for weeks and weeks o’er the grave up on boot hill,

“Here lies the man with heart of gold, and head with leaden pill.”

He may have been right you know, his heart and all that stuff,

But being the fastest draw in the West does not mean you’re so tuff.

He should made the ones he loved a safe place for to lodge,

Instead he spent his days in the sheriffs office in the the city they call “Dodge”.

Dodge he did, all his life, the bullets, cursings, kids and wife.

He was was known for keeping law, but his home was always absent, “Paw”.

 

 

Read This

Read this because you’re the type of person who appreciates writing. Go ahead and share it and recommend it to someone else who is kinda like you.  You know who I mean: the guy who hides behind the screen he writes on;  The girl who is secretly depressed and agitated about how small they feel in such a big writing community with its own stars.  Those people who are repulsed at the actors, writers and pontifical people who pat each other on the back with golden awards for who shines brightest.

Yup.  We cower in their shadows as they go on to fame and fortune while all you want to do is be heard and appreciated.  Don’t be disappointed, you are who you are and your work is your work no matter how the rest of the world responds to you and it. Keep creating and writing for it is an extension of yourself and you are valuable.

There’s a portion of us who think we have answers to difficult questions.  Some of us like to tell the world where we have been.  Others like to share their knowledge and accomplishments.  The reason we do is we are created ourselves, and the work of One who also desires to be noticed and appreciated.  Yet, He doesn’t need any of us to survive. He doesn’t survive at all, instead He is Life and Life is self-existent in and of Himself.  We have been told we are created in His image, so we are very much like Him, but corrupted by a sick, self-absorbed role model called “humanity.”

Some years ago a song written by a favorite artist caught my attention:

RANDY STONEHILL
Through The Glass Darkly

I heard God was at the Palace doing a one night stand
So I went out there to see Him with my hope in my hand
He was just a boy of fifteen without much to say
And when he started signing autographs I walked away

I was standing on a corner by the marketplace
When a fellow with some leaflets shoved one right in my face
Well he poked me with His Bible like it was a loaded gun
And I said whatever it is you’re selling man I don’t want none

All our superstar are suicidal casualties
And our heroes die in motel rooms and motorcades
Oh it seems like all out dreams are only fantasies
And I wonder if we’ll learn from the mistakes we’ve made

I bumped into Mr. Jimi at a London hotel
And he said let’s get together but he didn’t look well
When I woke up in the morning all the papers read
Jimi Hendrix overdosed last night in bed

All our superstar are suicidal casualties
And our heroes die in motel rooms and motorcades
Oh it seems like all out dreams turn into tragedies
And i wonder if we’ll learn from the mistakes we’ve made

Now I’m waiting at the bus stop for the bus to arrive
And I know there must be more to life than staying alive
Well I don’t know where I’m going when I climb in
But it can’t be any emptier than where I’ve been

     Ah, yes.  Randy has nailed it.  The world looks to super-stars that always become falling stars.  We give them our ears, eyes, time and money.  We sit on the edge of our seats waiting for the next movie surprised to find out that one of the stars had to be computer generated because they perished due to reckless living.  Instead of learning from their mistakes we make them gods and goddesses.  We continue to worship at the throne of popular opinion rather than truth.
     Some of us have drawn back.  We know we are failures and keep working so others do not make the same mistakes.  We want to share the beauty of life, the wonderful & limited gift we all share in this world.
     Some have plumbed the depths and reached for beyond the stars;  some have looked inward a far as the microscope will allow and have drawn two diverse conclusions: 1) Mankind is an amazing cosmic mystery having chance as it’s origin, and we are progressing toward perfection, or 2) Mankind is the creative result of  Divine Artist and we fail to see His signature in ourselves, and hence are degenerating.
     While the media continues to generate myths and legends out of humans with smoke and mirrors, let’s continue to create the reality of life and artistry at it’s best.  Hopefully, we will be able to give the greatest worship and accolades to the One who made us this way.
     I know you may not agree with my conclusions and that is okay.  You may feel all alone in your work and believe no one understands.  Let me challenge you to have another look.  The world with its hard work and coldness has grandeur and beauty.  Stop often and be amazed.  Tell us about it.  We already know about the hatred, the death, the sickness, and degradation.  Paint your world with the Creator’s heart in mind.  Find Him and you will find faith, hope and love.  Do you really need anything else?

 

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They and Others

valley of death

There they go again, back and forth, in and out, up and down.

They could have so much more, but instead desire madness and monotony.

Where were they when we needed them?  They were busy.

Busy but accomplishing nothing; nothing that they say is really something.

Across the sea others went in their place to keep them safe,

Safe maybe, but not from themselves; so many lost to preserve the madness.

The others? Most return alive, but their spirits are near spent,

Bodies never quite the same, the land they love emaciated by selfishness.

Memories that do not die, sleep– the others may, but rest never.

Always something in the shadows, waiting to attack when least expected

As rest is slaughtered during the cursed nightmare.

Morning dawns and outside the window there they go again,

Constantly moving and going nowhere accomplishing nothing so they can

Be like everyone else: Except the others

 

The Christmas Ape

The Christmas ape is not your friend,

Just kick his big baboon rear-end.

He will climb your Christmas tree

& give your dog some primate fleas.

Last year he came on Christmas Eve

& threw his scat at Uncle Steve!

Oh I am ready this year though,

to ward off any chimp-like foe.

I have a slingshot close at hand

with extra-strong type rubber bands.

When he shows up in festive clothes

I will whack him on the nose

with anti-ape ammunition

From my sling with great contrition.

So if you’re in my neighborhood

and see him running through the wood

It is not Bigfoot that you spy,

Nor abominable snowman passing by;

It is the Christmas Ape instead

With his swollen nose of red.

And if my story you don’t believe

Just go inquire of Uncle Steve.

potato

(The potato has nothing to do with Christmas, just like an ape.  However, it is here to remind us all that no primates were hurt during the creation of this fine piece of holiday poetry.  Next time you see a potato you will sub-consciously remind yourself to be kind to apes.  This is good.  It is wise to keep potatoes on hand Christmas as they are great for filling those empty spaces in Christmas stockings.)

Please share if you like. Share if you don’t like.  Let’s fill the internet bloggery with the great ape message, no one needs to hear.

The Gift

DSCN2311Not ours to keep but to embrace is the earthly life we have come to know.  We do not order it, control it, just embrace it because it is a gift.  It is undeserved at any rate and at least we should appreciate it’s length be it just a day or two.  Life is full of experience that cries out for more, even if we are the richest and most well-to-do.  There is no bucket list for the thankful, just gratitude for the day we have.  Hunger, disease, war, death and all things rated evil or unfortunate are still part of the day we are lent.

Fortunate people like myself do not appreciate the depth of creativity thrust upon us from our Maker.  In His hands and heart lies a plan that comes to fruition not for us but for Himself.  Those who are humble enough to submit to His sovereignty enjoy the fruit of His indefinable and merciful ways and eventually His Kingdom which is made up of those who He has called His own.

Our world is now sopping wet with the blood of human selfishness and the entire creation cries out for redemption.  We ask ourselves why God would allow for such pain and heartache when kindness and love is attainable where we have been planted?  The answer is not defined, perhaps it is because His creation cannot know His love unless they are given the opportunity to make their mind up to love Him back.

Many are born into the sorrow left to their people & land by rebellious forefathers.  Yet, through the sorrow they somehow come to know & love God.  Others with so much blessing in life rebel against His goodness and leave sorrow for their children, and of course, judgment for themselves.  I know; you don’t want to believe it.  But we better for time is of the essence.

As we continue in life we know that our time is running out like the fuel left in a wood fire which turns to ashes in a few hours.  The young ignore it until their friend is killed in an accident, suicide or a war.  The middle-age try to control it thinking that they will be able to retire soon, then their classmate dies at 51.  The old still know their days are few but few of them are careful with how they’re spent; then they die.  The gift of life is snuffed out like a candle and at every age and stage of life we deny our Creator His spot on our heart’s throne.

You’re alive?  Live, but not for yourself.  Live as though life is something given that needs to be given back, appreciated, and in the hands of God.  Get off that throne; it’s not yours.  When the King comes to sit down you will be removed.  Love your Creator as He has loved you.  If you haven’t yet discovered His love, go to the Cross.  You will see blood shed for our transgressions.  You will see it is also empty for Christ has ascended to His Father’s throne where He intercedes for those who believe on Him.

In the meantime the world in turmoil has some relief that can be given by you.  Yes, the gift of life.  Those who keep it for themselves will have only that to show on the day we give an account.  To carelessly give it away to riotous living is also a tragic loss, for it was not appreciated and wasted.  To invest it into others: the returns cannot be lost and are multiplied. But first, give it back to God.  He bought it with His Son.  You will have to give it back someday anyway.  What pleasure their will be for the one who presents it with interest.

Merry Christmas. Understand the gift.

King of Orphans

In the smile of a child, on the sunset clouds, beneath the shaded tree,

You will find it there.

In the first dandelion, with the twin fawn whitetails, and the call of an owl,

It surprises you every time.

In the quiet of the new-fallen snow, the trickling stream and fields waving in the wind:

Evidence of the Creator.

We credit every athlete, artist and musician with their amazing skill,

Yet the One who knew them before their conception gets little credit

From the capstone of His creation: man.

Willful orphans who run from their Father, Who waits at the end of the lane for

their return, refuse to be identified with His majestic sweetness,

And trade their eternal birthright for a day’s worth of soup.

Failing to see Him, acknowledge Him, seek Him, He did the one thing that just might

capture our attention: He became a man.

Walking among us we discovered there was no room for Him on our throne,

Threatened by His holiness, we hung Him on a tree to die.

He forgave us before His last dying breath.

He bought you back.  Will you come home?

 

 

 

Thanks Lord!

Giving thanks always takes us to the wonderful things and people we are surrounded with: Family, Church, Nature, Salvation, Home, God.

I am seldom aware of all the things I am not thankful for, yet are part of the life God has designed for me. Some things we become thankful for only when they are taken away.  Here’s a few:

  1. The full use of our bodies
  1. The senses: sight, smell, taste, feeling, hearing
  1. The ability to think, reason, make decisions & take responsibility
  1. Communication with other human beings
  1. Dominion over animal life, forest field & the accountability of it
  1. Water, air, soil, fire, the elements
  1. Wealth & power (in the amounts given to us)
  1. The opportunity to know God
  1. Articulation of speech & control over it
  1. Dreams, sleep, rest
  1. An eternal soul that is loved by its Creator
  1. Endurance of pain, sorrow, affliction, troubles
  1. Youth, old age & whatever is in between
  1. Hope for tomorrow when today leaves you exhausted
  1. Warmth in cold, cool when hot, relief when in pain

Now, of course this list is not extant, but should get you thinking thankfully.

Have a Blessed Thanksgiving,

Pastor Ferd (Woodtic)DSCN2312

 

The Intimate Sky

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Can the sunset see us here below

As it shadows the hollows and woodland?

Does it mate with evening and give birth

To midnight’s coal dark sky?

Does it blush with scarlet hues

Because we see the sky’s intimate love song

And hear the Katydid’s soliloquies of end of day?

As stars commence to dance above

And the moon strokes it’s fiddle,

I never cease to be amazed

At eventide’s conception.

When I Rise

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In the morning when I rise,

Squinting through my sleepy eyes,

The last thing I want to see

Is this person staring back at me.

His hair sticks up in every way

From products smeared in yesterday,

The lines I note along his face

Seem bilateral and all in place,

But nonetheless I am not thrilled

To find myself so over-the-hill.

But ever since I was a kid

I tried real hard to win the bid

Of being the oldest of my piers,

And now instead of being cheered

My morning face is what I fear!