Monday, April 30, 2012

Moments Of Glory.

Moments of glory are not the norm
Flashes of lightning on a stormy morn
The normal is the steady step each ordinary day
As we walk toward heaven, God leading our way.

Danger, excitement, with visible war
Would keep us at the ready ; hearing lions roar
But the soldier that reaches the finishing line
Is the one that steps onward, time after time.

Just simple duties, putting God first,
Starting each day with praise, and love’s burst
I try to imagine what life would be
If God and my Saviour were nothing to me.

Wyn Barratt May 2012.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Old Age

The world is changing as I age and strange things are going on.
I take more pills than sandwiches. My shoes aren’t fitting on.
The clothes that slipped on easily have turned a different shape
But that may be because I left the dryer on all day.

The side effects of all my pills have changed my looks somewhat
Especially if I take too many water pills from the pot.
One set of pills can make me stick my tongue at passers by
I almost caught one on the mouth when I let my long tongue fly.

There is another pill I hate for loss of hair’s a cause
If taken too many days a year, and I am on year four.
It occurred to me the other day that if I took not one more pill
I could be jumping skipping hopping, pretend I’m in Brazil.

Here’s another side to that coin for as some friend pointed out
I might be in a wheelchair snorting in and out.
My tongue might not be working, my food might not go down,
I might be slobbering and dribbling from one end, till I drown.

I’ve thought things over carefully and thrown all my mirrors out
If I can’t see what I look like, I won’t get such a fright
I’ll get dressed with my eyes shut and hold a little book
Then folk will think I’m studious and not take another look.

Wyn Barratt April 2012.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

I Guess You Noticed?

I guess You noticed I’d been quiet since the time I have been ill?
I can’t begin to understand why I should go downhill.
I always thought that it would be a slow and slippery slide
Each day a little less would move or bump instead of glide.

But do You realise, my Lord, how scary it can be
To hold a cup that shakes and spills, or fall down on my knees?
I speak now with a great respect because I know you’re God
But You died at only thirty three , not eighty three, my God.

The things that don’t move never hurt but, my, the things that do
Just stab me with a thousand knives or maybe even two
It takes some concentration to sit up in my bed
While neighbours and their children race round, their faces red.

I still have my ‘to do ‘list that grows longer everyday
Because I just can’t do the things the horrid list will say
No don’t you join the list of folk who say, “Get someone in”
“The work will be done in no time. Just let your debts’ begin.”

‘We know your Pension will not cover the workmen’s hourly rate
But the rooms that they have fixed up will be really looking great
Then as your Pension dissipates you open the front door
And only let the callers see a little piece of floor’.

Wyn Barratt April 2012.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

The Autumn Sky.

The autumn sky, a gentle blue,
Has been waiting round for me and you
No harshness of the summer heat
Just soft and tender clouds that meet
And slip by tenderly, not leave a bruise,
A gap, a tear that hints abuse.

Such tenderness is born of God
When Christ His Son our journey trod
Oh Lord may I forever step
With careful measured gentleness
To point the way from star to star
To God Creator, our blessed Father.

Wyn Barratt. April 2012.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Rushin' Round.

I’m standing on a roundabout
Traffic rushing all around
I see a space in this mad race
Shall I jump and hit the ground?
Which way is right, which way is wrong
Dare I chance this game at all?
I could stand right here and never move
Till I’m pushed or perhaps I fall.

I can see that this is not the way
That I should live my life
For God has made a plan for me
That includes none of this strife.
So as I kneel down here in traffic’s roar
And give my life to Him
I see a sign down a narrow lane
That says ‘Take this way in.’

Wyn Barratt
April 2012.

Why Am I Here?

There was a time, not long ago that I succumbed to doubt
Why was I here? What use was I? I couldn’t work it out.
My age advanced, my health not strong , more burden than much use
Yet God had still not called me home although I begged Him to.

More people seemed to pray for me than I need to pray for them
My health declined so rapidly and my usefulness did then
I volunteered for active roles; a worker I would be
Until I slipped into a grave and no one noticed me.

I’d barely turned a spade or two and planted out some land
When evil inward wriggling things brought that plan to an end
A hospital opened up its doors to treat Pneumonia
While angels flew round without wings and Heaven seemed nearer.

I dieted on mounds of pills till I was sent on home
The house I never thought to see was quiet, still; grass grown
I realised then that I still had important work to do
For God my Saviour sent me back to finish what was due.

One of His special faithful band was deep on a battleground
Attacked on all sides by enemy hordes desperate to keep her down
While I have breath to whisper a plea for a Holy God
He’ll send His praying warriors to fight for this child of God.

However many days may pass each one will do its work
For I am here to pray and pray for God’s family here on earth
The breath to whisper Jesus name is all the strength I’ll need
For God Himself knows all my heart and answers prayer at speed.

Wyn Barratt April 2012.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

This is Our Easter.

This is your Easter and it’s mine. We nailed Christ to the Cross
A Holy living sacrifice; God accepted his Son’s loss
My life, my death not good enough to pay the price of sin
The highest and the purest Life it took to let me in
To Heavens glorious spotless halls, to see the face of God
Yet God said “Yes!” and Christ said “Yes!” to the path that must be trod.

I look around at all God made, a mirror shows my shame
That I a vision of all that’s poor should carry a name He gave
What have I ever said or done worthy of a thought
Let alone a tortured cruel death to lift me up from nought?
Were I to live a thousand years in a pure and holy life
I never could deserve the blood as Jesus gave His life

The Father gave His only Son a mother her firstborn
And all accepted this, their fate, since the day that Christ was born.
How can I then fret or complain when trials follow me?
I have my life, my hope, my God and all things meant to be.
The blessings He bestows on me far more than I deserve
The prayerful love of family and friends without reserve

And yet if only one deep prayer I’ve sent on their behalf
Were to come true, and all through You, how it would bless my heart
So from my heart, oh Lord, my God, I thank you here and now
For answers to my whispered prayers though they don’t come here and now
The life of God was given in love and answered prayers the same
Whatever forms those answers take they’ll come in Jesus name.

Wyn Baratt April 2012