I brushed an old man in the park’s dusky light His eyes kind and bright; his hand waiting fast We shook as he asked, “If with you it’s all right “I’ll share what I saw when I passed!”
“Last Friday, my heart quit, but soon my dear wife Restarted my ticker! She knows CPR Before coming to, I laid eyes on queer sights You ain’t gonna reach by no car!
“Saw hell where the dress code ain’t meant for no prude But nudeness, they hollered, is never permitted All garb must be racy, risqué, or plain lewd Since modesty’s purely forbidden…”
“And next I saw heaven! Less strict than you’d guess All dress there must highlight one’s beauty with flair Its duty: to accent God’s Image the best Armani could never compare!”
“Hell’s speech code is clear, ain’t no way to refuse No courteous or cordial exchange is endured Just cursing and gossip and God’s name abused Complaining and slander and slurs…”
“But speech was plum peachy on those Golden Shores For never ‘is heard a discouraging word‘ All words are affirming and kindness outpours ‘Til laughter ‘n praise are upstirred!”
My feelings evolved as I pictured such visions First shock… as I saw myself happyin hell Then peace… as I vowed to make flightpath decisions Not caring ’bout oglers, I yelled…
“I had best now get ready before the long rest And I’ll start right away! I must ‘dress for success’ I will tame this ol’ tongue for that place to obtain Where each sight and each sound will impress!”
The old man replied, “Friend, such glory’s in store! May God keep our robes for the feast freshly laundered I’ll see you again once we’ve stepped through death’s door!” He waved and then onward he wandered
Plump drops, rudely soaking, awoke me from wonder My feet had me bolting as thunder out burst Mid-sprint, I debated whose rules to live under
Is my use of devices divisive? Do my apps all my time seem to zap? Does my tablet distract me from talk at the table? Am I able to tech with some tact?
Do my selfies intrude and cause tension? From pursuing my screens must I wean? Has my staring impaired all my care and attention That friends are left feeling unseen?
I’ll trade FaceTime for time face to face From my scrolling, I’ll go on retreat I will meet when I can and embrace, and say, “Love you!” Emojis could never compete
So my friend, help me tech with more tact!
And take a crack at that “digital etiquette“
Just a sec- let me check- did my phone just get hacked?
The Rabbi beckoned, “Let the little children come to me!” (1) Each mother gently nudged her tyke toward Him from her side The young ones – crawling, toddling, skipping – flocked to Him, carefree His arms, as would be later, opened wide
A toddler reached her eager arms in hope of a caress He gathered her as would a hen beneath a winged embrace She nestled, resting list’ning ear upon His whisp’ring chest Its steady beat repeated Love and Grace
A rowdy boy soaked up the peace that flowed from this new Face He plunged his sunburnt head within the Rabbi’s tassled shawl And sobbed, discovering such a love he’d never dreamed he’d taste In grieving his dear father’s tragic fall
A girl stood distant, downcast, feeling worthless and ashamed She could not trust this stranger, for her heart concealed a scar Longingly, she watched the care the other children claimed, while The Rabbi’s eyes went searching, near and far
Her look then locked with His! She froze and knew He knew her secrets, so She hid; He called her name and bid her join her younger peers She felt a surge of hope that purged her fears and soothed her deepest woe His eyes sent doves of peace! Soon ceased her tears
As she approached, He coaxed each step; His face was young and bright Its radiance burned away her shame and proved to her, her worth He pulled her in and told her, “You are precious in my sight” (2) Her scar was healed! This moment, her rebirth
Throughout the many moons that followed, each retold their story How Christ had held them tightly in His arms, and in His gaze And how such holding freed that girl, refurbishing her glory Inviting all to welcome that embrace
This Healer still repeats His plea, “Come unto Me” and rest (3) To restless ones whose guilt and pride give rise to hopeless pain “Unless you be converted and become like little children Youwill not enter into Heaven’s Reign” (4) *****
The lasting gifts our Father brings Ain’t “mockingbirds” or “diamond rings” Not “looking glasses” “Billy goats” (1) Or heavy sacks of crisp new notes
Ain’t giant boxes wrapped in strings No, it’s a seed that sprouts fresh things Its fruits can rescue Drowning hearts By drawing them to Peter’s Barque
The fruit of FAITH, which gives one wings And that of HOPE for living springs What is this seed? God’s Word, well told To “bear much fruit”, a hundred fold
Its greatest fruit, the spark of LOVE For friends, for foes, for heav’n above There is no good This fruit won’t bring For all who lean upon its King ***** (1) Hush Little Baby, by Mother Goose
Rhymes for the Rejoiceful 