Where I work it’s always Winter but you can never call it for what it is because it took weeks for the property owner to schedule two men to fix the door which cost him six hundred dollars and they didn’t fix it correctly and it remains open too often with cold Pennsylvania Winter air blowing in. It’s the door corporation with a bad reputation. It’s all about the money, of course. Jesus says, in the Bible, “No one is able to serve two lords; for either he will hate the one, and he will love the other; or he will cleave to the one, and he will despise the other. You are not able to serve God and wealth.” (Matthew 6:24 KJ3 Version)
It was a lot warmer on Thanksgiving when my father read me a poem he wrote, and I congratulated him. It goes like this:
FAITH is the glorious highway to Heaven
Prayer is the key to God’s kingdom
Truth is the spoken language of Christianity
Joy can be found in his presence
Thankfulness is a fruit of the Spirit
Peace is God’s gift to the True Believer
The cross is the way to forgiveness
Perseverance is a key to Godly character
Grace is the lifesaver of my soul
Need love? Seek Jesus
He’s risen, so will we in His time
When I was a child, I saw my father sitting on the sofa and writing in the living room. I asked my mother, and she said he was writing a story. I don’t remember if he was writing a book and I thought little of it, though it seemed mysterious, and I think it planted a seed. I don’t think my mother was impressed because she said creative people are next to being retarded when she knew I was very creative from an expensive test I took. Thanks, Mom.
But what did impress me was my father telling me years later that my best quality was honesty. But then the pastor knocked that down by saying honesty is okay, and a little like integrity, but integrity is better.
These are things we live with.
Here are two short poems I wrote this morning:
Born of a virgin
he turned things right-side up
Killed for his people
he’ll soon return to judge
Hear all of her neighbors say, “What if Jesus returns tomorrow?”
and scorn or complain all day: “How will we possibly stand?”
when her household are clothed with scarlet
and her husband is known in the gates when he sits with the elders of the land
My mother is gone, now, and I’ve forgiven her. I still have to forgive others, and I will. With God’s help I will.
The first poem is by my father, Joseph Ventura, and it’s the first time anyone has contributed to my blog website. Thanks, Dad.
I hope you and your family and friends stay warm this Christmas.