home

Your Love Washes Over Me

As I bang my head against the wall in the halls
Of this home, not my own; sigh and loudly cry,
Your compassion washes over me like waves
From rich love wider and deeper than the sea,
And you had no bed, nowhere to lay your head,
But you’ve said you will take care of my needs,
Sowing seeds of faith that grow ever so slowly
As you provide my daily bread, day after day,
And remind me I do have somewhere to stay,
And so what shall I say? And how can I repay?
I say ‘thank you,’ as I bathe me in love so true,
Which canopies over me like the skies so blue!

Step by Step: A Pilgrimage

Step by step, day by day he makes his way
And does not stay in one place as he paces
Forward along the path of life to his home
Far away yet so near and dear to his heart
And every part of his being is seeing home
That one day he’ll reach across the breach
Of time and space in a rhythm with chime
Of hopeful faith he carries along a journey
He began long ago when decided to forgo
All of the calls of this world and its glamor
And the clamor of earth, place of his birth
So . . .
Step by step, day by day he makes his way

A Place Called Home

Setting your pace within your very own place
Known to you as home, where seeds are sown
In assurety of the security of your safe haven,
A place you do not have to hide in craven fear,
Where you can freely visit those near and dear,
Somewhere dry and warm where you fly high
And no longer have to try to smile a mile wide
Or hide how you feel, and kneel down in peace
With a new lease on life; after all you’re home
. . .
Setting your pace within your very own place
Somewhere dry and warm where you fly high

You Brought Me Home

Wandering the wasteland with a nefarious band,
You came and found me and took me by the hand,
Led me across the desert sand and even carried me
When I could not stand, so much did you care for me,
And as I cried you dried my many tears
And I could hear you say, ‘I so love you,’
But I was silent and pliant as you tended to my scars
And promised to defend me always with compassion
In the passion of love from heaven above
And this was like treasure with pleasure!
Now I make my home with you so beautiful and true,
Never again to wander and wonder
Where to lay my head and make my bed,
And now I can truly say, ‘I love you, too!’
No more in the wasteland with some nefarious band,
No more . . . I am Home

Home . . . a place to call my own
Where in secret dreams are sown

A bed where to lay my head
And find the best rest for my body weary

A table where to eat my daily bread
After thankful prayer is said

Home . . . where ideas are freely sought
Home . . . where there is liberty of thought

Safe and secure from all alarm
Walled in securely from all harm

Far above and beyond mere survival
Home . . . where there is daily revival

Home . . . where God is ever so near
And there is no need for fear

Home . . . where there is the heart
And of life every best part . . . home

Homeless in the Heart

Shattered dreams are left
Broken pieces on the floor
And an open door leading . . .

Where? Surely somewhere
Certainly more than nowhere
Homeless in the heart . . .

Of the West, Our Home of Rest

‡

Across the plains, toward the setting of the sun
We travel to take our stand; life has just begun;
In twilight of plateau height, we claim our right
With might of our determination, our exaltation
Without resignation, and ne’er any intimidation
Or intimation of defeat thru sheets of raining,
Snow and sleet, we make a street thru neat rows
Of golden wheat, not to be turned by cold or heat;
Westward we march, calloused feet fit for march
To new and better land past dust, sweat and sand;
And we have met the angel band leading us home
Where the buffalo roam ever so grand oer best
Of the West, our new-found home of ever-rest.

‡

Journey Home ~ Home

Too many miles, too many trials
On too many blackened roads;
This unsteady man’s more ready
To come back home, haversack
In hand, no cool brand, but sand
From senseless journeys, sleeping
On gurneys; is home ready for him?
Afraid but he wonders…

Who’s gonna jump with me in a fresh pile of Autumn leaves?
Who’s gonna walk with me to take honey from honey bees?
There they are in my mind, turning my whole world around,
With smiles and laughing sounds.

He’d played the bad boy, sad boy,
Cool roy placing another bet all
To enjoy another round in the room
Full of flashing lights and sound
Bound to make an young man lost
But he’d been found now, and now,
And now the time had come round
To find his home again, begin again.

He’d placed his bets, drunken voice,
And played the joker-fool by choice,
No turning back to what was behind,
Oh no, to the kind he’d left behind,
So far behind, so long ago to throw
Out the dice, but life’d not been nice,
So far, for all these years, shed tears,
But would home be home, so far so near?

Just around another bend, with all the love he could send,
But could he mend broken fences to end his wanderings?
Hope is all he had packed now in his dirty ole haversack.

With smiles and laughing sounds.

Sounds of home…

there is beauty

old man with kindly eyes
little boy climbing tree, laughing
dogs barking, cows grazing, birds singing

teenage girl serenely staring out the bay-window, thoughtfully, through cool gentle rain into the woods shrouded in mystery
woman riding down the freeway on the back of her motorbike, hair blowing freely in the wind, radiant face soaking bright sunshine
trees dancing in Autumn breeze

children playing hop-scotch in the park
grandmother tending the flower garden
flowers opening in Spring of life

farmer looking over newly plowed field in the waning hours of evening
family holding hands round the dinner table, heads bowed in prayer
dolphins leaping through waves of Summer

sister pitching baseball to her younger brother
daddy riding little girl, squealing, on his shoulders
snow falling in Winter crystal art painting earth and sky
and all the stars of heaven sing

ah! there is beauty in the myriad faces of God
smiling ten thousand times throughout the universe
not all is twisted pain and suffering, not all bleak and somber – there is beauty
if only we have open heart-eyes to see and time for love and the thank-you breath

there is beauty

this world is the world of wild storm kept tame with the music of beauty
~ Rabindranath Tagore

when you reach the heart of life you shall find beauty in all things
~ Kahlil Gibran

loving my parents and the life they gave

Never one day passes that I do not remember my parents and breath a prayer of gratitude. Two individuals joined together in loving intimacy and gave rise to my unique life. My father and mother carefully and affectionately prepared for my birth, fashioning for me a very special place in their home and hearts. And this doting mother and father, from whom I quite literally originated, were there with open arms to welcome me into the world; to care for me and to nurture the life they each had given me. How, then, could I fail to be thankful? The greatest blessings with which I have been blessed are all ultimately rooted in the lives of those two precious souls… And so once again I say, “thank you.”

“My heroes are and were my parents. I can’t see having anyone else as my heroes.”
– Michael Jordan, 20^th Century American Athlete

“Love your parents and treat them with love and care. For you will only know their value when you see their empty chair.”
– Anonymous