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To my students,
God gave us wings to fly
Where all is pure
The earth is far below
Where men moil for gold.
So use your wings,
And let them lead you
To God’s playground.
Retired school teacher
I picked up a rose once.
It was lying on the ground
In the dirt, next to me.
I put my hands around it, just to bring it to my face,
And breath in what it was breathing out.
There were no thorns, and I thought,” that’s odd.”
Then, a man approached me.
He peered at me and said, “You look lonely and hurt.”
I looked into his perceptive eyes and said, “Yes, I am.” Because I had been thinking,
“I wish my Mom were here.”
She would put her loving hands on my fevered brow, and I would be soothed simply by her presence and her touch.
Then, I asked him, “Why are you here?”
Immediately, his eyes became a flame,
But I was not afraid.
Because, I knew,
I was talking to an angel.
Then, the glorious, effulgent light that radiated from his body penetrated my soul, and overwhelmed me.
At that instant, another level of perception hit me.
“Oh, my God!”
I am looking, through a messenger, into the loving eyes of my Savior.
But why is he here?”
Then I realized,
He was sent, here, from God, our Father
To pick up my bleeding body and carry it off the battlefield.
You see, like most of my Christian companions,
I carry a sword.
And like they, I’m not afraid to unsheathe it,
On the field of battle
And use it.
But as all warriors learn,
There will come a time
When you find yourself
Lying in the dirt,
And in need of assistance.
That is when God sends in an angel,
To pick up your wounded body,
And take you to a place of refuge
Where Satan cannot touch you
Until God sends you back out.
And when He does, you will know
That you are still first string!
Tonight, I watched you fall asleep in your chair,
And I remembered something you told me,
While we were still young.
You said, “I like it when you read, until I go to sleep.”
And so, I sit, and watch vigilantly over you tonight,
And think, “How beautiful you are.”
Sometimes tools wear out or break.
So, then, what do you do with them?
Well, you can simply throw them in the trash
And forget that they ever existed,
Or you can place them back in your tool box.
And from time to time,
Pick each up, and hold it in your hands,
And recall the things you did together.
I spoke to an old friend today.
How shall I say this,
Accommodating and gracious.
She is a class act.
And, as I spoke, she tilted her head
I mean, she really listened,
As I spoke to her about a man who had the heart of a lion.
We touched each other in a place
Aren’t allowed to go,
Because she is the wife of a hero.
And he was a friend of mine.
But all she has left
Is a folded flag.
As a school teacher and a parent, I get the concept of timed out.
That is where many reside presently.
We have all been in that lonely corner at one time or another.
Please do not desert them.
They will be there for for only a short while.
But it seems like an eternity.
You can’t talk to them; that’s against the rules,
But you can pray for them.
There is no wall that prayer can’t penetrate.
And they and God are listening.
I was alive once,
But God took my soul
And gave it away.
He put it in a place of responsibility
Once you bring a new life into the world
Your life is no longer yours
It now becomes ours.