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Showing posts from July, 2011

Sycamore

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Still standing.
Beside the main street.
Feeling the pulse
Of spring rains,
The crown of summer,
The testing pull
Of autumn storms.
Children explore
My limbs and shelter.
Adventurers pass,
Out to new possibilities.
Some, retracing steps
In homeward reunion
Or retreat.
Presently a strange din;
One stalwart man
And His entourage.
Onlookers press in,
Curious and hopeful.
What's this?
Someone scrambles up,
Tugs my extremities,
Scrapes my bark,
Settles,
Balancing to watch.
Much like the children.
(Generations of them.)
I serve their purpose.
I serve his purpose.
Giving the better view.
And the Master looks up,
My Maker.
Issuing the call:
"Zacchaeus, come down.
I will come to your house."

Note: Many a witness accepts rough treatment that others might get a better and redeeming view of Jesus.

Russell

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He is a resident at the Seniors' Home which I visit. I have noticed him piping in with relish at the Chapel. He knows the Gospel and the peace and composure which it brings.

Recently I invited Russell to share in our little reading-discussion group. I attended at his room to repeat the invitation given two weeks prior. I assisted him in getting out of his automated chair, onto his feet and leaning against the walker. The trip was only thirty-five down the hall then right turn for another twelve feet to the entrance to the living room for that floor.

Russell is blind. He asked me not to pull but simply to guide the walker and give instructions..."Left...left...too close to the wall..straight ahead...right...here we are...Now simply park your walker in front of the wing chair...position your trunk, and down. Friends, meet Russell."

We had a short devotional reading, and then a mystery story. I had wondered if it might go on too long, but the majority stuck it out and enjoyed …