Songs From A Grateful Heart

If I sing How Great Thou Art
While waves of doubt flow through my heart

Or sing about Amazing Grace
But in the mirror my shame I face

Or if I have no words to say
But only tears come when I pray

Or passing through the fires of fear
I run instead of drawing near

Your gentle spirit deep within
Reminds me of forgiven sins

And a new life that’s begun
Because you freely gave your Son

I know that I can rest in You
And find my peace in hope renewed

If on your promises I’ll stand
And come to you Just As I Am

High Witness - or The Girl Who Cried Flower

One of the best things about working summers at a guest ranch in Colorado was meeting the other young men and women from all over the country, or out of the country, who also spent their summers there.  Housekeepers, waitresses and cooks were needed as well as wranglers and ranch hands so the staff consisted of city dwellers, flatlanders (otherwise known as Midwesterners), foreigners and cowboys.  A clash of cultures at times but for the most part a wonderful learning experience.  Coming from Illinois, I fell into the flatlander category.  Before the ranch I had never been anywhere farther than Wisconsin so I was pretty naïve when it came to the ways of the West.  It turned out I was not alone.

 Most of us knew little or nothing about mountains, riding, ranching or the beautiful natural habitat that surrounded us. We learned as we went and it wasn’t always the easy way.  Cactus didn’t grow in the middle of the Illinois prairies that I was used to running barefoot through, and neither did nettles.  Pain is an amazing teacher and so is humiliation.

One evening I was late returning from a hike and it was getting dark faster than I expected.  As I finally reached the ranch road leading to the lodge I noticed that both sides were lined with beautiful white flowers.  They weren’t there in the morning when I started out so I thought they had all bloomed sometime during that day.  The entire kitchen staff followed me down the road the next morning just to see them, but they were all gone.  They looked at me as though I had lost my mind and from then on I was the butt of jokes about eating hallucinogenic mushrooms while on my hike etc., etc.  I knew that I had seen them, so I checked every morning so that I could prove it.  That only added fuel to the fire when I had to come back and tell them they were not there.  After dinner one night I went for a walk and there they were again.  I practically dragged a couple fellow staffers down the road to be witnesses to my sanity. One of the locals came with us and really got a kick out of listening to us go on about the mystical disappearing flowers.  Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and told us that they were Evening Primroses and that they only bloomed at night.  At least I wasn’t hallucinating.

Virtue Smirtue or I Am Not Impatient

It starts with great anticipation
Building to a fever pitch
Then stirring my imagination
Takes me on a journey rich

Through fantasies of great elation
And depths of deep despair
My expectations rise and fall
While what’s to come is still unclear

When my mind’s eye slows and stops
I’m at the mercy of the clock
Anticipation turns to dread as
Temptation rears its’ ugly head

To taunt me into doubting if
The plans I thought I made
Did not exist or even worse
Were meant for yesterday

Suddenly scheduled events
My fears and doubts deflating
Evolve into reality
And end the awful waiting