During this time of year those special people who come into our lives come to mind, whether family or friends, whether earthbound or in God's heavenly realm, the memories of those we hold so dear are always in our hearts and thoughts. One such loved one was my father-in-law. Our children adored him. He was their Granddaddy and so missed these 6+ years, yet his kind soul remains with us. I wrote this while we were waiting in the hospital for his surgery to be completed. We prayed and our prayers were answered. We had the privilege of having him several more years in our lives.

The Waiting Game

The hour is young, our worries are old
Will the sun shine? Will it remain cold?
Hope in our eyes, prayers in our hearts
When will they come? When will they start?

It is so hard to play this waiting game
Will things change? Will they remain the same?
How will it feel if a change takes place?
Can we go on never again seeing his dear face?

Minute by minute, hour by hour
We have to remember who has the everlasting power,
God is our beginning, our middle, our end
We must have true faith in our eternity friend.

Step by step, mile by mile
We must continue with a prayer and a smile,
God is our focus, heaven our goal
He will always be the nourishment that fills our soul.

Courage is something God wants us to feel
Can this be happening? Can this be real?
Life is continuing, yet never the same
It is so hard to play this waiting game.

Billowing Texas Clouds
Drifting way up high,
Enjoying their lofty view
From within the Texas sky.

Billowing Texas Clouds
Circulating through a summer's day,
Sharing their great adventure
With feathered friends who had passed their way.

Billowing Texas Clouds
Never remaining the same,
Inviting those who are left earthbound
To come join in on their favorite game.

Billowing Texas Clouds
Creating different shapes,
Guessing what kind of animals
Before the sculptures escape.

Billowing Texas Clouds
Leisurely floating away,
Continuing on their adventure
Searching for others who wish to play.

My number one prayer is for the children. Not only for my children, grandchildren, relatives, children I work with at school, but children around the world. It's so easy for me to picture myself out in space looking down upon the earth and pray for all the children. They are so vulnerable in an adult world, that it sickens me to think what some children have to endure within their childhood. Oh what a different world this would be if the adults took care of the children and loved them like they should be loved.

Children are on my mind tonight, but my world is populated with children, so naturally children are such an important part of my life. When one of those children is hurting we all hurt. I am asking for your prayers for one particular child. He is 5 years old, is in one of our Kindergarten classes where I am a Teacher Assistant and is in my Bible Class at church. I just received word earlier this evening he is in the hospital resulting from a stroke. He is such a neat Little Guy, and he is very special, but aren't all children? They should be!!! From what I have heard so far it is a minor stroke, but has to go through a battery of tests. Yes, he does have some kind of muscle disease, but it is not easily detected by others.

We have lost more than several children throughout the years from either illness or tragic accidents. Our community is small, less than 5,000 population, so when tragedy does strike, it affects the whole town.

My daughter, Amy, is 7 months pregnant. She just found out she has gestational (SP?) diabetes. She is an at risk pregnancy already because this is the first time she has been able to carry a baby, with two previous miscarriages. She also has a blood problem, so she has to take shots everyday to keep her blood thin. She also has sleep apnea(SP?)and has to sleep with an air mask. I probably have that wording wrong, but I'm sure you know what I'm trying to say. Anyway, I would love to ask for your prayers for Amy and her unborn child, Charlie.

May God Bless Each and Everyone of you! ROIE

When I was three
My dad told me,
Of his special friend
An old oak tree.

So on my birthday
When I turned four,
He planted me a tree
By the kitchen back door.

Dad told me to water it
So my tree would grow tall,
Through all of the seasons
Winter, spring, summer and fall.

I grew taller
And so did my tree,
We shared a lot
My special friend and me.

When I was nine years old
My tree had grown much taller,
Its branches reached out
Making me feel much smaller.

But I didn't care
For he was my friend,
We went through a lot
And will till the end.

The wind sometimes blew
And his branches would bend,
As I watched from the window
Wishing I could help my friend.

Then the storm would be over
And the wind would just stop,
As I'd rush outside
To check him from trunk to top.

A few more leaves
Would be covering the grass,
But his branches were still
And he had peace at last.

A homemade wooden swing
Hung from two thick ropes,
Long hot summer days passed
As I swung, thinking of future hopes.

Soon I was twelve
As the years passed by,
That was the sad year
My special friend almost died.

Dad called a special doctor
To take care of my tree,
He told me he could help
But it was also up to me.

I did exactly what he said
To help my friend get strong,
I gave him a lot of tender loving care
And sometimes talk to him all day long.

Slowly his leaves grew healthy
Their color became shiny green,
His branches no longer drooped down
As I watched through the window screen.

During the fall his leaves turned colors
From green, to yellow , orange and red,
Then they would slowly drift to the ground
Creating a colorful rainbow bed.

The air suddenly turned briskly cold
And the winter snows would come,
Icy wind blew through his bare branches
With a whistle and a tuneful hum.

Many snowmen visited my friend
Through bleak days and lonely nights,
Always keeping him company
As they stood within his sight.

Warmer days pushed aside
Shivering colder ones,
As Mother Nature's awakening
Welcomed spring within the rays of the sun.

Tiny green buds burst forth
Creating a green headdress of leaves,
As they slowly swayed and bowed
Within the soft, whispering breeze.

Cooling spring showers fell to earth
From the thundering, cloud-filled sky,
Giving the plants a refreshing drink
Helping my friend to survive.

Summer was dry my eighteenth year
But my friend's great roots reached deep,
They drank from their secret source
Where the earth remains asleep.

My friend grew taller than our house
His branches thick and long,
A tree house hidden behind lush green leaves
A secret place where I could always belong.

One day I had to leave my friend
A boy I was no longer,
While I studied hard at college
Both the tree and I grew stronger.

I now have a son of my own
He was four the other day,
I bought him a tree just like the one
My dad planted for me one May.

My son has met my special friend
And he had asked to have one too,
So whenever we visit my tree
His branches wave, as if asking,"How are you?"

It's been four years since we had to leave
Our home, our friends our old mesquite tree,
Framed within the kitchen window pane
It grew, it shaded, it glistened with rain.

Our hearts were torn, our eyes grew dim
As we last looked upon its twisted limb,
Goodbyes were hard, yet we tried to believe
That someday the mesquite would be the coming home tree.

Not long ago a chance appeared
To visit the tree we held so dear,
Our hearts were torn, our eyes grew dim
As we viewed the hill where our tree had once been.

June 26, 1983
dedicated to the Old Mesquite
which had once stood in Pearsall