Relationships, children, and the dynamics between family members.
I lay in bed at night, awake.
I count the many ways
That life can deal a deadly blow,
And fear creeps in my mind, uninvited.
I search for ways to make things right,
But always come up short.
Sometimes solutions just aren’t clear,
And, hard as it can be,
I need to trust that God, in time,
Will make all right and clear.
Count the stars in the big night sky,
Count the years, they go flying by,
Love them now, or you’ll ache with sorrow,
They’ll grow free and be gone tomorrow.
Baby diapers to barbie dolls,
Sesame street to shopping malls,
Teddy bears to 10-speed bikes,
Playing Ninja to the big prom night.
Mother watch me and play with me to
Bye for now, can I have the car keys?
There’s gold that flows within our veins.
It makes us royalty.
Indeed, we’re children of a king–
Heirs of a kingdom heavenly.
They sailed across the ocean neigh six score years ago.
And set their faces westward to a land they did not know.
The call to join the gath’ring saints in search of peace and rest,
Kindled great desires to build a Zion in the west.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
The gospel news had spread abroad across Atlantic sea.
And grew within the hearts of a Danish family.
Like many others, they set sail and left their country home,
To join the saints en-route to a desert land unknown.
Ever westward, slowly bending to that Zion in the west.
Onward ever onward, there was little time to rest.
The dust was thick, the nights were cold. Death was ever near.
A shallow grave along the trail was a constant haunting fear.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
James Eli Powell and Mary and two children drove a team,
That pulled a covered wagon to reach a distant dream.
But as the fate of many, Mary soon grew ill and died.
No marker shows her lonely grave, where the last goodbye was cried.
Yet through it all, they often sang; the words a story tell.
Around the fire, sweet music swelled and told that ‘all is well’.
The westward trek’s remembered for the courage that it shows.
They made the desert grasses bloom and blossom as a rose.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
They planted seeds that grew into an empire through the years,
Though few knew more than crude log homes, sacrifice and tears.
The days have passed ere pioneers were seen throughout the land.
Yet their story leaves us something good to understand.
Though years roll on, and faces change, those very names we bear.
We still posses that self-same flame they carried here with care.
We can boldly raise it’s light; bright through all the years.
A tribute to those mighty ones, the Mormon Pioneers.
Grandpa is so nice and kind,
With an open heart and mind,
Kindness and creativity shown,
Like the colors of the rainbow.
You are cool. You are fun. You are unique. You are grateful. You are wise. You are creative. You are faithful. You are compassionate. YOU ARE GRANDPA!
Little one, your life began long before your birth.
Little one, your spirit lived and planned to come to earth.
Perhaps you even saw your home, or chose your family,
But now you’re here, and memory fades, the past you cannot see.
The sweetness of your spirit there; it glows now in your face.
Your innocence in this strange world now seems so out of place.
And surely those you knew before were sad to see you part,
But let you go with tears of joy to finally have a start.
Do you often feel afraid, and ever all alone?
I guess this place where you’ve been sent, doesn’t seem like home.
But when you stay, you’ll come to know, you have no need to fear.
We can find the peace and love of heav’n and bring it here.
I feel so humbled when I think that you’ve been sent to me.
I don’t know how to show my love like parents heavenly.
I know I cannot take their place, but if I try and pray,
I’ll keep your spirit sweet and pure so you’ll return someday.
Sometimes I think it’s just not fair,
That I am here and you are there.
The way I’d like the day to be,
Is always have you here with me.
Then I could hug you all the day,
And always have the chance to say,
I Love You.
Our Lord has much good humor. Creation has it’s clowns,
From kittens, pups, to elephant calves, come cute and joyful sounds.
From otter pups to monkeys, in young life, good humor rings.
God sows joyous laughter through summer unto spring.
Some souls are hurt through life and their souls grow blind and cold.
Each heartache, pain and sorrow can make our souls feel old.
We lose our ability to see the simple joys in life.
Our souls become cankered with anger, self-pity and strife.
We choose the path of humor, laughter, love and joy.
We use forgiveness and repentance so Satan can’t destroy
Our ability to see the beauty that flows through each new day.
Good humor is the result of living life in God’s eternal way.
When you were born
And I held you close,
So helpless and little.
And I was glad I was your Mother.
I protected and fed,
And cleaned you.
And rocked you.
And you grew.
When you were little,
And home all day,
And running around
Underfoot all the time,
I was so glad I was your Mother.
We played and we read.
We walked and we talked.
And you grew.
When you were in school,
And gone some of the time.
You made friends of your own.
And played your own games.
I helped you with homework.
I washed and I cleaned.
I counseled and worried.
And you grew.
You stand at the threshold
Where I once stood,
With your back to our home,
And the world in your face.
And I’m glad I’m your Mother.
I will miss you and wish
You were back home again.
But still I will help you
Fashion the best wings I can make
As you fly away from me.
