From Where I Sit 8-3-12

Up on the high majestic hill,

stands one great mighty oak,

that seems to mimic something else -

a world of prideful folk.

Some think that sin is not so bad,

they think it's overblown -

but I can feel that screaming wind

from Satan's megaphone.

Oh, we all know man's clanging wars -

his taxed and tortured slaves -

his used, abused or beaten spouse -

the sinful life he paves -

that plows up God's great symphony

with Adam's clumsy ox -

and pummels us with angry words

or painful, sinful rocks.

But God's created orchestra -

all people, black and white -

all babies born (or soon to be)

and elders have a right -

a right to live on God's great earth

in peace and harmony.

But pride seeks greater powers and

rejects humility.

From where I sit, I always see

His beauty deep within,

His loving, graceful handiwork -

though plundered so, with sin.

God's handiwork from birds to fish

and mammals great and small -

still bless me with their beauty here.

I see His work in all.

And when I think my Loving God,

has nothing more to give -

He pours out love in greater grace,

so ready to forgive -

where even I, through heavy heart,

so tearfully repent -

and seek that perfect sacrifice,

who God already sent.

A rhythm rolls with springtime breeze

across this valley pass -

right over meadow here below

and through His humble grass.

In unison, harmonic notes

from orchestra below -

still wave to those on mighty hill,

to folks who need to know...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Precious Time 7-24-12

(from a woman's perspective )

So handsome is my smiling man.
I find him quite a guy.
The months and years begin to roll
as precious time slips by...

I try to build that perfect life.
No matter how I try,
I learn this is no perfect world
as precious time slips by...

So beautiful, the Heavens are,
that share the starry sky.
I search for many answers there
as precious time slips by...

But winds contour the heated sands.
My words grow faint and dry.
The sand runs through my fingers too
as precious time slips by...

And frigid is the northwest front.
My tears freeze when I cry.
It finds me blind and unprepared
as precious time slips by...

So wonderful, that smiling man -
but years, we could not buy.
Though handsome as the day we met,
our precious time slipped by...

And now my loved one passed away.
Through tears I say, "Good bye"
but cling to pride and humble not,
as precious time slips by...

Yet patiently, my Lord still knocks.
His love, the reason why.
Will I ignore or answer Him?
My precious time slips by...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Hands 8-18-11

Selfish hands and idle hands

are rotten to the core.

Loving hands and humble hands -

are needed even more.

Not famous hands or jealous hands -

but hands that do God's will.

Eager hands and fearless hands -

enduring hands as well.

Patient and obedient,

or busy as a bee -

clammy too or clumsy,

or unknown they may be.

Feeble hands or age old hands,

or hands that hug a lot -

rugged hands or wrinkled hands,

great many hands or not.

All hands on deck - please listen,

and every faithful hand -

as we go into this dark world

and visit every land.

Share the never failing hands -

His hands - as He prevails.

His hands, that carry us away,

are hands that held the nails.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Heaven Help Us! 5-31-11

Whether a grown-up, a child, or a teen -

We want to be noticed, we want to be seen.

We buy a new auto, with soft leather seats -

or buy a new wardrobe that nobody beats.. 

But buying top brands at all the best stores -

is just simply futile if showing our drawers.

 Our pants must be pulled up with shirt tucked down in -

and must walk with stature, as dignified men. 

Ingrained are small habits in ways we have found -

to draw the attention of folks all around.

But I am much better than all of the rest.

There's no need to ask me.  I'm simply the best.

And seldom - oh, seldom - so seldom I see -

a person more humble - more humble than me.

I don't spit tobacco, gossip, or 'cuss' -

so please, Heaven help them - to notice Jesus.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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When Burdens Weigh 10-01-10

We reach so high,
and often try -
to touch the Master's hand.
Outstretched we cry,
yet wonder why -
His distant Promised Land...

His people ran
as they began -
to see the waters part.
Fulfilled God's plan,
a humble man -
from deep within his heart.

We raise hands far,
with feet in tar -
we try so, even higher.
Yet still we are,
so plainly par -
in circumstances dire.

Still true today,
let come what may -
and every trial too.
When burdens weigh,
just humbly pray -
so God can come to you.

©2010 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Perfection's Promise 11-8-09

There is no perfect paper,
there is no perfect pen.
There is no perfect poem
that can be told by men.

There are no perfect phrases,
that offer perfect rhyme.
There are no perfect voices
to comfort us this time.

We chart our many poems
and give them all a grade -
or pass them off as faulty -
ignore, lest truth invade.

Poems by the millions
can offer but a clue -
to how our Savior really felt
when He was torn in two.

Though not a bone was broken,
though not a word was said -
Jesus broke that perfect mold
and showed us love instead.

If we can't see perfection,
from love that God bestowed -
from love that Jesus gave us,
from love that Jesus showed -

If you can't see perfection
in poetry and all -
then you will never understand
and God will never call.

So take this very poem
and rip it all to shreds -
if you can't see the promise
in what our Jesus said.

However, if your heart is soft,
if humble you can be -
if you can rip yourself from pride -
then Heaven you will see.

There is no perfect poem.
Perfection never starts -
unless we see God's promises
down deep within our hearts.

©2009 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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John 3:16 (KJV) For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

HOMER 5-16-09

I am taking the liberty of not posting a poem this time.

This is a true story that I felt compelled to post.

It's true - as I witnessed it personally.

I pray that you enjoy 'HOMER'.

-

Homer.
A 'special' person?
Successful?

Few would call him that today.
He was not an 'important' elected official.
He was not a 'well-known' celebrity.
He was not a 'CEO',
nor did it seem he was even 'needed'.

In the mid 50's
after heart trouble
needing a warmer climate

and wanting to do mission work-
he moved to Texas - Weslaco, Texas.
He knew no one there.
And of course,
Mexico was just across the river.

The Mexicans were very poor.
I suppose most of us knew that -
but few really noticed.

I visited him once.
He drove me around
and showed me places -
and I remember seeing
a very young girl playing
naked in front of
a small square shack (her home).

Homer saw a need -
but few noticed.

Homer lived in a trailer.
He didn't have heat
and it got cold at night -
but few noticed.

The border patrol got to know Homer.
They trusted him.
They knew him
as they saw how he lived,
and the work he was doing.
We crossed the border
into Mexico and back,
easily -
without being checked.
He prayed, then delivered food.
He prayed, then delivered clothes.
He prayed, then delivered hope.
He prayed, then delivered change -
to their lives.

For years he delivered their needs
and the Good Word -
but few noticed.

He didn't pastor a big church.
He didn't pastor a small church.
He didn't pastor any church -
but I remember once
at a Wednesday night prayer meeting -
(during one of those rare times
he returned to Wisconsin)
several men stood up
and gave their testimonies.
I can't remember
what any of them said.
But then Homer stood up.
He didn't say anything spectacular.
He just told of how poor his 'new friends' were
and how he was trying to help them.
He spoke for awhile and asked if
we might be able to share or donate anything -
clothes, food...
and then started to sit back down.
But everyone wanted to hear more
- so he continued.
He spoke for the full service.

There was no "prayer meeting" that evening.
No one left early.
The pastor never spoke either -
but few noticed. 

His faith was big
but he did small things.

Few noticed.

Decades later

as he got older,
he moved in with us -
back in Wisconsin.
I owned a few rentals
and charged him nothing.
He insisted on paying, though -

so he did,
$40 per month
which covered the utilities.
He could afford that.
He stayed in that small lower unit
a number of years.
I learned a lot -
as I saw him daily.
I was not a benefit to him,
but rather, he was a benefit to me.
You might say that we
were one, big happy family.
We seldom knocked.

I remember once
walking in on him
and saw him in his bedroom
on the floor
on his knees
at his bedside,
praying.
He didn't hear me
or see me
so I quietly backed out.
He was a man of prayer.

He read his Bible continuously.
We spoke often.
He carried his Bible everywhere -
and rarely left home without it.
He walked to the other end of town and back
twice a day, for exercise.
He loved Gods world -
but few noticed.

He continued his normal routine,
his daily Christian walk -
but few noticed.

One day
as I was driving down main street,
on the far sidewalk,
I saw him.
As I stopped for a red light,
there he was - up ahead,
walking the same direction as I.
Who could forget that distinctive walk?
A little hunched over,
but a deliberate walk -
as if he always knew
exactly where he was headed.
Few noticed.

As I got closer -
as I looked closer -
of course, at his side,
under his arm,
in his hand
was that same familiar Bible.
He didn't see me.
I didn't sound my horn to wave.
I just looked ahead
and smiled, thinking...
'that's Homer'.

On the sidewalk
were other passers by.
I wondered if they, too, saw his Bible.
Few noticed.

Now maybe Homer
was not a 'special' person in our world,
but he was a special person to me -
and a very 'special' person to God.
A great believer,
A 'special' person for sure -
though few noticed.

Are we 'special' to those around us?
How will people remember us?
And more importantly,
how will God remember us?

Homer passed away in 1991
at the age of 95.
A few people in Weslaco, TX
or in Mexico
might still remember "the nice man".
The children that he fed and clothed then
should be in their 40s or 50s now.

Homer McDermott
1896-1991
He died poor -
but few noticed.

If every American
in this nation -
prayed as hard as he did -
worked as hard as he did -
gave as hard as he did....
if every American
in this nation -
proved their love as he did -
to our neighbors here,
and around the world -
then America, once again, would be
that "shining city on a hill"
Reagan spoke of in Dallas in 1984.

And God would be defined to the world
through pure Christian living -
not through theology books
sold in bookstores,
or by
(allow me to say it this way)
"make-believers".

Homer didn't "make-believe".
Homer didn't 'act' like a Christian.
Homer was a Christian -
though few noticed.

Homer never worked for his salvation,
nor did he worry about his salvation,
nor did he charge
for his Christian service -
and few noticed.

Few people knew Homer -
but God did.
Few people noticed Homer -
but I did.

Tears pour from my eyes
when I think of how far I fall short
of Homer's great love and faith -
in life,
for others,
for God.

Homer -
a very 'special' person?
I guess that's for each one of us to decide,
depending on our goals in life -
but as for me - yes, absolutely.

Homer McDermott,
a most humble man -
a man of faith -
a man of most unselfish love,
with the greatest, most worthy testimony.

And though few noticed
my grandfather, I did.

~louis gander

2009 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Stop, Look & Listen 4-5-09

Please Lord, stop me in my tracks
when others pressure me.
I will not pass Your roses by -
my prayers will thankful be.

Help me look up to Your face
beyond these foggy skies.
With humbleness I see You so
forgive my 'wanting' eyes.

Help me listen to Your voice
with answers - help me start,
not to hear with selfish ears,
but with a humble heart.

I'll not bow to sinful worlds

for You gave me a choice.

I will stop, look and listen 'til
I sense Your Holy voice.

©2009 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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What Is Art? 3-9-09

"What is art?” if to me, you would ask,

I'd say its a laborious, challenging task.

God creates life that we can't comprehend -

then puts it in nature, beginning to end...

We suffer the challenge to come even near

the beautiful landscapes we hold ever dear.

The brilliant full sunsets that take breath away

only proves artwork is futile and gray.

Though it’s improved and forever is honed,

creation is simply just mimicked and cloned.

With all of the paintings and all of the words,

none can replace nature’s flowers or birds.

I search, and within me, I find that great art -

comes from creation through a humble heart.

So never take credit, profits or fame -

for next to creation, our work is a shame.

©2009 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Way To The Cross 2-28-09

So you want directions?
You're at a loss?
You want me to point
your way to the cross?

Well, it's not a "direction",
and not about speed -
but get there, you're able -
you sure can, indeed.

You can't go by auto,
nor by a plane,
A rocket won't help you -
nor will a train.

You can't use your eyes
to see your way there,
You can't use your ears
or recite a prayer.

But close your eyes, listen -
to that still, small voice,
which draws you in closer.
God gives you a choice.

To choose a direction
would tear you apart,
but listen, you're closer
to your very heart.

To find that old cross,
don't look through the trees.
Just humble yourself
and fall on your knees.

©2009 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Complaints Heard Here 1-27-09

We get so excited with weddings and births,
or other great things which are part of the earth's -
like parties and joking, and all of the sports,
hobbies, vacations and games of all sorts.

But then when our lives take a turn for the worse,
with unfair disasters which carry a curse,
we'll complain when things don't go our way -

and our chance will come. We're one heartbeat away.

I wonder if God hears a thanks or a grumble,
whenever our hearts are a little less humble?
Will all our complaining spill over the brim,
when soon we'll be standing - in front of Him?

©2009 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Strength Through Love 6-28-07

There is no love in sin.

There is no sin in love.

Sin is like a vulture, but.

love, like the snow-white dove.

If anyone thinks that they can hide a little sin inside,

They hate our God in Heaven and mock our Lord who died.

Don't look at me to judge my God for only God's correct.

Just look inside and search yourself for something to perfect.

Sin's author is deceptive.

Sin is anger, death and hate.

But do not hate the person -

just save him from its bait.

Love forgives, forgives, forgives,

It's patient and it's kind.

Love loves the person,

But hates what kills mankind.

There's no love in vultures.

They aren't in Heaven above.

We must be totally humbled,

to gain God's strength, through love.

©2007 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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