Category Archives: Religion

Thoughts and prose that relate to religious or personal beliefs.

Attitude of Simple Humbleness

Inspire humble thoughts and majestic images.

Inspire humble thoughts and majestic images.

Thank you Ageless One.
My wrinkles, scars, and bruises,
They demonstrate your generosity,
Your gift of longevity.

Thank you Rising Son.
Not as a complaint, but a deep sigh
For the aches and pains of old muscles and bones
They are a gift of a new day.

Thank you Heavenly Father
Each wheezing breath is a prayer
For clarity of mind and heart.
They bow in reverence.

Thank you Gentle Loving Spirit
So many faults and weaknesses,
And so I feel slovenly unworthy,
But still you pour out your bountiful graces.

Within your embrace I face the daily toils,
Overcoming the challenges of bigotry
Sharing the smiles and cheerfulness
With an attitude of simple humbleness.

Originally written: July 7, 2014

I have just finished reading Ann Voskamps’s
book titled: “one thousand gifts, A Dare to
LIVE FULLY right where you are.” I was unable
to read more than page or two at a time. Her
words provoked thoughts and meditation thereby
limiting the number of pages I could read in
one sitting. The above poem is a result of
the reading.

https://www.facebook.com/AnnVoskamp

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I Am Going Home

A New Beginning!

A New Beginning!

I Am Going Home
Oh Heavenly Father,
Come for me today.
To be home for Christmas.

The earthly toils and tribulations
Have worn my body and spirit down
Come Holy Spirit.

Our long, long suffering is
Torturing the innocents
Surrounding and supporting us.

My body and mind
Yearn for the loving
And peaceful joy
Of being in your presence.

This is the season of Advent
A time of expecting
A time of preparing.

I am prepared.
We are prepared,
Now is my Advent season

I await the miracle
Of my new birth
My new beginning

Free of suffering
Singing with your angels
The glorious songs of old.

Announcing the arrival
Of The Child
And of the new arrivals.

Come Holy Spirit
I await your pleasure
Impatiently, I await

Come Holy Spirit.
Take me home.

Originally written: December 18, 2012

This was written for my cousin, Bill Mehringer, at the request
of his wife Deb. Bill is in hospice as this poem was written.
We love and support Bill and Deb in this long struggle. Bill
got his miracle just a couple hours after Deb read this poem
to him. Bill’s wait is over and he has his beautiful wings.

Now I Lay Me Down

As I prepare for sleep
I am reminded of the Great Sleep.

When sleep overtakes me,
It is a void, a blankness.

A form of my thoughts,
Are of the Great Sleep.

Then, dreams in black and white,
And drama in vivid colors visit.

Now I lay me down,
My head dents my goose down pillow.

The sheets and covers cold and chilly,
Warm to a nice snuggly place.

To sleep, to dream,
To rest, to re-energize.

Dear Lord, if  I should die,
Passing over to be with family

Before I wake,
And the sun rises on a new day.

I pray my Lord,
On bended knee with humble heart.

My soul to keep,
Drawing me close ever more.

Amen, Amen!
Yes, so be it now and forever.

Originally written:    March 21, 2011

As I drifted off to sleep I said my nightly prayers and slipped into
meditation, I was struck with the thought I was about to willingly
relinquish my conscious thought processes and enter a world of
oblivion.  There was no guarantee I would return to the bright new
dawning of another day.  Yet each night of my life, sometimes eagerly
and sometimes reluctantly I have given myself over to this nightly
ritual.

Each night I trust and have faith all will be well and I will greet the
sunrise. Each night a miracle of sorts occurs.  I enter the nether
world of blankness and dreams.  I awake refreshed, repaired, and
anxious for new experiences. I am profoundly aware a portion of my
existence is outside of my control or conscious intelligence.  It is in the
“hands” of another.

There was a moment just before oblivion when a vagrant thought
entered my mind. A wondering whether there is emptiness or bliss in
the afterlife.   The thought turns into a minute time slice of reluctance
ended by faith in ageless sagas spoken in front of fires by ancestors.
These tales and beliefs passed down in oral and written forms have
become sacred to the various religions and sects.   Now, they fight
amongst themselves about the differences they have created.   The 
differences are of consequence only to themselves.

I Am Listening Lord

I am listening Lord.
I quiet my body.
     I still my mind.

I am listening Lord.

I feel your gentle breath
     Touch my cheeks.

I hear your heralds,
    The crickets, and the robins.

I smell your presence
     In the incense of jasmine.

I am listening Lord.

I open my heart
     Your voices touch
     Where none have gone before.

Originally written:   March 6, 2000

This was written as part of meditations I perform
to relax from hard days and get centered.  This
psalm just flows nicely reminding me to listen to
my inner self.  It prepares me for another day
at work.

A Stone Wall

I saw a stone wall,
And marvelled at the hands
That built it.

I saw a mountain,
And marvelled
At GOD’s handiwork.

I saw my own hands,
And marvelled
And said thank you!

Originally written:   November 21, 1999

I have marvelled at what minds and hands can create.  I am humbled by
the words on paper that appear from the ink of my fountain pen. The
words speak thoughts that are created in my mind unbidden.  The thoughts 
have a life of their own.  The written words seem to come into their own
as they appear on the paper.   I am grateful for the gifts received.

Like No Other Sound

  • Like no other sound – 
    • The breeze moving through the pine forest.
  • I remember my walks thru the forests of Ahmeek, Michigan.
    • I can hear the music, sometimes even a whistle calling me.
  • The gentle rustle of the pine needles rubbing against each other.
    • Whether winter, spring, or summer each has its own voice.
  • Calling me to remember the sacredness.

 

Originally written:   March 8, 1999

  • The music of the forest pines speak of the sacred things in my life.
    I wanted to write more, but there is no more to say.

There Goes I, But for the Grace of God

  • There goes I, except for Grace of God.
    The homeless.
    The convicted.
    The disenchanted.
    The victims.
    The list is endless.
  • Yes, there goes I, except for Grace of God.
    The self enamored.
    The power hunger.
    The poor in spirit.
    Even those with out hope.
  • The list is endless.

Originally written:  December 9 1998

  • There have been so many instances that could have gone
    wrong in my life.  Is it by luck or happenstance or is
    it hard work and a willingness to help others that I am
    not in one of these situations?   Yet, I know there were
    moments when just luck or karma could have a sad
    result.  Sad and bad things happen to very good people.
  • When I see a disadvantaged person my heart goes out to
    them.  I know I could just as easily be standing where
    they are.  The way to live is to live for today and with
    love.  Love for your family and friends helping those
    with less and in need.  
  • I see young people sent to prison for what was considered
    mischief when I was a youngster.   On Guy Fawkes Night
    there was always mischief in the small town and county
    where I grew up.  Tipping over outhouses,  paper
    with cow dung lit on fire and doorbell rang,  door bell
    ringing and leaving.  Yet, when eggs thrown at a house
    stained the house the house was repainted by the culprits. 
    Of a small town of 5 streets there were 3 police cars looking
    for shenanigans with no success. Yet,  New Years
    Eve streamers decorated the park trees in the morning
    after.  We moved away from that small town to a large city
    when I was 11 years old.  I still like small towns.  Oh,
    yes I should mention that my dad was the town marshal
    and a deputy sheriff of county.
  • As a teenager I stepped on a corner of a policeman’s
    yard and then walked up the alley to my house.  My
    friend and I stood in the middle of the alley and talked. 
    I remember we laughed and joked about something at
    the mall.  About that time the policeman living on the
    corner stepped out into the alley and then went back into
    his house.  It was about ten minutes later when 2
    police cars turned into the alley from opposite ends with
    their lights on.  It scared us.  We ran in opposite directions. 
    I between houses and out into a large field.  About that
    time I heard the policemen yell, “Halt or I will shoot.” and
    then a pistol shot.  I kept on running.  Running in fact
    out of my shoes.   I ran for about 1/2 mile in the dark to
    a ditch.  There I stayed for an hour.  It seemed like
    forever.  I, then slowly walked home by roundabout way
    only to be captured as I approached my home.  The first
    question I was asked was; “What happened to your shoes?
    Do you often go out with just your stockings?”
  • I received a very stern lecture from the policeman about
    running from them.  I was informed about the possible
    consequences.  My father was not as generous.  Yet,
    my memory retains one punishment. I had to go the
    next day and apologize to the policeman on the corner
    whose lawn I stepped on.  He was a  Lieutenant on the
    cities police force.  I weeded and mowed his lawn for a
    couple weeks.  Every time I hated every agonizing
    moment of it.  Yet, the lesson was emblazoned upon my
    memory – Don’t mess with a policeman and don’t run away.
    They will catch up to you.
  • The sixteen year old neighbor boy ran into trouble with
    the same policeman.  He squealed his tires turning in
    front of his house.  The policeman warned him but he
    did not pay attention.  Within a couple of weeks he lost his
    license to traffic violations.  The policeman had given his
    car’s license number to other policeman who did him a
    favor of stopping that car anytime they could spot a
    moving violation. When he continued to drive he was
    arrested and spent time in jail.  When he got out he
    was as careful as I was around the neighborhood.
  • Yes,  I was lucky I did not end up in the boys home or
    reformatory as they were called then.  My life would have
    been very different.