Saturday, November 25, 2006
Ramblin'
Ramblin'
Down at the end of Derek Road is a wilderness replete
with cactus, rocks and walking trails to challenge aging feet.
Exploring the unlikely site of an abandoned turquoise mine
without my handy walking stick could be a treacherous climb.
A forest of pinon and cedar, stands of hardy scrub oak and more
surround a sea of desert plants that cover the valley floor.
Off to the left of the well-worn trail I follow some horses' tracks
that lead to a Shell oil pipeline and a road that takes me back
to a fence and "private property" sign, a community with a gate
to keep unwanted guests away from that secluded estate.
Climbing up and down the rough terrain where few, perhaps, have trod,
I feel content and richly blessed, attuned to creator God.
Then signs of civilization appear, some plastic and broken glass,
beer cans and even a weathered shoe. I'm not alone, alas!
Maneuvering a rocky slope with my polished stick of wood,
what if I fall and break a leg? - a chance well understood.
Perhaps I would make a tasty meal (I wouldn't mind, I swear!)
for the neighborhood mountain lion or a hungry roving bear.
That seems more sensible to me than dying slow with cancer
or suffering Alzheimer's curse. There is no easy answer.
Thank God for a healthy body that for two pleasant hours can walk,
a mind that can still imagine, a voice that can sing and talk.
To use it all for his glory, to help other people in pain
is the whole of my ambition, contentment forever to gain.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Down at the end of Derek Road is a wilderness replete
with cactus, rocks and walking trails to challenge aging feet.
Exploring the unlikely site of an abandoned turquoise mine
without my handy walking stick could be a treacherous climb.
A forest of pinon and cedar, stands of hardy scrub oak and more
surround a sea of desert plants that cover the valley floor.
Off to the left of the well-worn trail I follow some horses' tracks
that lead to a Shell oil pipeline and a road that takes me back
to a fence and "private property" sign, a community with a gate
to keep unwanted guests away from that secluded estate.
Climbing up and down the rough terrain where few, perhaps, have trod,
I feel content and richly blessed, attuned to creator God.
Then signs of civilization appear, some plastic and broken glass,
beer cans and even a weathered shoe. I'm not alone, alas!
Maneuvering a rocky slope with my polished stick of wood,
what if I fall and break a leg? - a chance well understood.
Perhaps I would make a tasty meal (I wouldn't mind, I swear!)
for the neighborhood mountain lion or a hungry roving bear.
That seems more sensible to me than dying slow with cancer
or suffering Alzheimer's curse. There is no easy answer.
Thank God for a healthy body that for two pleasant hours can walk,
a mind that can still imagine, a voice that can sing and talk.
To use it all for his glory, to help other people in pain
is the whole of my ambition, contentment forever to gain.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
A Living, Breathing Sermon
A Living, Breathing Sermon
(Harold Trent)
Most of what I have learned about being a Christian
was taught by a man of few words.
His quiet example was oft awe-inspiring;
his angry voice seldom was heard.
He had prayed long and often since he was a teen
that a cure for his ills would be found,
the manic/depression that then had no name,
no potion to turn it around.
This “thorn in the flesh” helped to temper his soul
and keep him so humble and meek
that he hated to argue, would not fight at all,
a peaceable answer would seek.
Instead of a miracle cure for his pain,
God granted him wisdom so rare
that he saw things more deeply, saw things he could change,
and had enough courage to dare.
He broke that long steel chain of silence,
hung stained linen out in the sun,
and with the right people at all the right times,
God helped him the gauntlet to run.
His tired, tortured soul has now been released
to God’s eternal rest,
but his message is being repeated
and printed at his request,
to share his tough experience,
tell brothers there is hope.
New medicines now offer
a simple way to cope.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
(Harold Trent)
Most of what I have learned about being a Christian
was taught by a man of few words.
His quiet example was oft awe-inspiring;
his angry voice seldom was heard.
He had prayed long and often since he was a teen
that a cure for his ills would be found,
the manic/depression that then had no name,
no potion to turn it around.
This “thorn in the flesh” helped to temper his soul
and keep him so humble and meek
that he hated to argue, would not fight at all,
a peaceable answer would seek.
Instead of a miracle cure for his pain,
God granted him wisdom so rare
that he saw things more deeply, saw things he could change,
and had enough courage to dare.
He broke that long steel chain of silence,
hung stained linen out in the sun,
and with the right people at all the right times,
God helped him the gauntlet to run.
His tired, tortured soul has now been released
to God’s eternal rest,
but his message is being repeated
and printed at his request,
to share his tough experience,
tell brothers there is hope.
New medicines now offer
a simple way to cope.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Another Adventure
Bad knees can be a blessing. Because of them, I enter the senior center through the back door where there is a ramp instead of stairs. Writing class is down the hall and around the corner. In the first room on the left, I noticed a group of folks playing country music, and one day I came early to listen. What started out as a class for guitarists had turned into a regular jam session with a variety of instruments, but no piano. Aha!
This week I went shopping for a cheap electronic keyboard with a volume control so that it won’t drown out the other instruments, and suddenly I’m back to “making music,” playing and singing the old songs of my youth. Since the schedule allows me to attend writing class afterward, I’m killing two birds with one stone, one trip into town from the East Mountains.
Can life get any better than this? Dink, bring your harmonica. We’ll be in tune this time!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
This week I went shopping for a cheap electronic keyboard with a volume control so that it won’t drown out the other instruments, and suddenly I’m back to “making music,” playing and singing the old songs of my youth. Since the schedule allows me to attend writing class afterward, I’m killing two birds with one stone, one trip into town from the East Mountains.
Can life get any better than this? Dink, bring your harmonica. We’ll be in tune this time!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Monday, November 13, 2006
Passover
Passover
The Passover lamb was symbolic of Christ, the Lamb of God.
Each lamb was spotless, perfect - as prescribed.
The blood on the doorposts kept the angel of death from taking those inside,
and in Israel's camp that night, nobody died.
Their enemies were marked for destruction, the oldest family members.
Much pitiful mourning and wailing was heard that night.
The Passover supper was instituted, a memorial of redemption
every year at the time of Israel's freedom flight.
For a week their bread was made without yeast, signifying the working of sin
that can leaven the lump of dough and bring disaster.
Not every person is virtuous within the congregation
and can cause some of the flock to stray from the Master.
After bondage in Egypt for four hundred years, Israel was led by God
out into pastures green to start anew.
Like them, we Christians are transformed into a worthy people,
a metamorphosis, a switcheroo.
Ahead of Pharaoh's soldiers, facing a raging sea,
between a hard place and a rock the Jews were stuck.
The only place to look was up, up to the God of heaven.
They needed more than just a spot of luck.
They were crying out in fear, but God said "Stop your whining!
Go forward. I am with you all the way."
The water of the Red Sea turned out to be salvation,
just as water saves obedient souls today.
Baptism is our circumcision, signifying death
of our old attitudes and shameful sin,
a burial and resurrection to a righteous life
where loving sacrifice and peace begin.
Jews had to re-learn freedom, like a bird whose flight is gained
by slow degrees until its wings are strong.
God's word within our hearts helps us daily grow and change
in the image of the One who did no wrong.
Like the early church, we gather each Sunday to commune
with one another in the blood of Christ,
a time of great thanksgiving for all that he has done,
giving us his best, the perfect sacrifice.
And because he gave his best, he expects the same of us,
a dedicated life of serving others.
Real happiness is ours only if we share its blessings,
giving freely of ourselves to help our brothers.
(From a sermon by Roger Holm)
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
The Passover lamb was symbolic of Christ, the Lamb of God.
Each lamb was spotless, perfect - as prescribed.
The blood on the doorposts kept the angel of death from taking those inside,
and in Israel's camp that night, nobody died.
Their enemies were marked for destruction, the oldest family members.
Much pitiful mourning and wailing was heard that night.
The Passover supper was instituted, a memorial of redemption
every year at the time of Israel's freedom flight.
For a week their bread was made without yeast, signifying the working of sin
that can leaven the lump of dough and bring disaster.
Not every person is virtuous within the congregation
and can cause some of the flock to stray from the Master.
After bondage in Egypt for four hundred years, Israel was led by God
out into pastures green to start anew.
Like them, we Christians are transformed into a worthy people,
a metamorphosis, a switcheroo.
Ahead of Pharaoh's soldiers, facing a raging sea,
between a hard place and a rock the Jews were stuck.
The only place to look was up, up to the God of heaven.
They needed more than just a spot of luck.
They were crying out in fear, but God said "Stop your whining!
Go forward. I am with you all the way."
The water of the Red Sea turned out to be salvation,
just as water saves obedient souls today.
Baptism is our circumcision, signifying death
of our old attitudes and shameful sin,
a burial and resurrection to a righteous life
where loving sacrifice and peace begin.
Jews had to re-learn freedom, like a bird whose flight is gained
by slow degrees until its wings are strong.
God's word within our hearts helps us daily grow and change
in the image of the One who did no wrong.
Like the early church, we gather each Sunday to commune
with one another in the blood of Christ,
a time of great thanksgiving for all that he has done,
giving us his best, the perfect sacrifice.
And because he gave his best, he expects the same of us,
a dedicated life of serving others.
Real happiness is ours only if we share its blessings,
giving freely of ourselves to help our brothers.
(From a sermon by Roger Holm)
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
