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Christian Poetry

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Sometimes Life Is Good

By Tommy Butler, 2014-06-17


Sometimes Life Is Good, Christian Poetry Sometimes life is good. Sometimes life is bad. When I think of what could illustrate this truth,
I picture the sea, with the rise and fall of its waves.

Since time immemorial they have been rising and falling. Rushing up the near or distant shores, and then back down again. And again. And again.

Then there are the tides...also rising and receding forever. They last for periods of time even longer than the small advances and retreats of the waves.

So I would persuade you that the water is a representation of our circumstances, the state of a human life or a family. Contemplate how easily the waves rise and fall: Fleeting, precious moments of happiness or pain. Each one unique; that moment will never happen again. Remember these, and treasure them.

Next let the high tides betoken times of plenty when our lives are full and fortune smiles on us. We need to remember to cherish these times while they last, and even use them to prepare for the times that we know will inevitably follow-- the low tides, the times of scarcity.

But what of landings? In their great journey the world over, the waters of the sea will also kiss the land. You never know when. Life's waves will roll us up onto soft sandy beaches, like a spring wedding for two lovers along the warm shore. Could bliss be more pure?

Or the waves can just as well dash us against the rocks in a fierce winter storm, innumerable tons of indiscriminate, unforgiving power beating us against us in the black of night. Relentlessly. Repeatedly against the stone. Grinding rock to sand.

Blessed, peaceful, perfect victory. Cursed, despairing, uncaring tragedy. Both or either can happen more than once in a lifetime. It is devastating. And then it is glorious.

These incalculable and unavoidable landings--life events--form the defining moments of our existence. In these, we are forced to decide what we are made of. We prove weak or powerful; we show ourselves foolish or wise; we become monstrous or we grow more merciful.

Oh then, why must there be rocks? Why can't we on all days land on the a pristine white shore of some lost beach in yet uncharted waters of Capricorn's tropic?

Might I suggest that were it not so, the sea would not be so beautifully perfect? Ageless, truer-than-time, its waters and their motives ever abiding: an indisputable product of both the painful and the delightsome. Never forget that without the rocks, there could never be sand.

So too the affairs of humankind. The Waves, the Tides, and the Landings.

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Saturday, January 19, 2013

The Untamed Ocean

  • The oceans boundless depths,
    Its blue and dancing billows,
    Its might crested waves
    Like giant feathery pillows,
    Has not been tamed by man
    Not taught to obey his will.
    ‘Tis still beyond his power,
    All its menaces kill.

    We may ride upon the waves,
    Or in its depths cast our net;
    We may see its waters splash
    On our decks, all foamy wet;
    We may cross to other climes
    On its mighty dancing waves,
    But the hand or eye of man
    Cannot find its hidden caves.

    Oh, vast ocean, in thy power
    Thou dost glory, and reveal
    That man is only man,
    That on us, the stamp and seal
    Of mortality doth rest,
    Only God’s immortal will
    Spoke unto the ocean wild,
    Whispered calmly: “Peace be still.”


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Saturday, July 28, 2012

Sunshine (Sunshine in the morning)

  • Last evening when the sun went down
    Behind the woos, like a great red ball,
    I wondered how 'twould seem to us
    To never see the sun at all.

    But I did not fear at all for that,
    I knew that on another morn,
    If skies were blue, mists cleared away,
    The sun would shine- all bright and warm.

    The God who rules the universe
    Is wise and kind, and would not see
    The world dark and gloomy,
    So the sun shines out- for you and me.

    M.E. Van Order

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Friday, March 18, 2011


  • If this should be the last time

    I could pick an Easter bloom,

    Or walk in mossy wayside lanes,

    At least I shall enjoy this day,

    And when light and sunshine wanes,

    I'll place the Easter lily

    In a Window of my room.

    There's always a last time, my dear,

    When one can pick an Easter bloom,

    A last time to walk in fields and lane;

    But if one can see the beauty

    In a walk through moss-grown bowers,

    There'd be peace and sweet contentment

    In the last day in one's room.

    By; MEV

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Thursday, September 23, 2010

My Good-bye

  • This much to you I’ll say- the darlings of my heart-

    That though I’ll be away, we’ll not be far apart;

    For though I’ll leave you for a time, or if I stay,

    Mother love like mine can never go away.

    Believe my love is standing by your side,

    Whether good or ill may in your life abide.

    Believe I’m near, and think the best you may,

    For darling girls, my love can never go away.

    Mother (MEV), June 2, 1935

    Written to daughters Wilma and Ardice, left behind in Michigan when she went to California with her husband and three other daughters; Alta, Avis, and Clova, and granddaughter Mary Helen (my Mother), Avis’ daughter