To Mom from Ty

When you’re gone, return to dust
I’ll be alright, You’ll have to trust
You’re only boy, your “favorite son”
I’ll be fine, when your day is done

Miss has my back, and I have hers
Thick as blood, more than words
The joy of friends, I’m sealed with love
Only good comes from above

Think of the place you’ll get to be!
Golden courts for eternity!
A place of rest, for a body worn
A Savior king, the curtain torn

Peace forever! Not for a time!
A whole new body! A whole new mind!
Cancer is a forgotten word!
It’s name is never, ever heard!

You’ll run and jump and maybe fly!
And never, ever say goodbye!
Only love, that’s all you’ll know!
You and me, we know it’s so!

No more bad, no more pain!
Two more completely forgotten names!
All your words get whittled down
And somehow “Love” is the only sound

You’ll see your dad, you’ll see your mom
And all the others, who have passed on
Run into – your daddy’s arms
And gaze upon his million charms

A loving mom, ‘til the day you die
But we keep it here, with us inside
I think what I’ll remember clear
Your steady saying, “I love you, dear.”

I love you mum!



The King Has Come!

An angel appeared, swift in the night
A warrior tall and full of light
Said don’t be scared! For God will come
You’re son, Mary, He’s the one!

The family traveled to Joseph’s land
Bethlehem town in God’s own hand
A little stable which held the least
So they nestled with the friendly beasts

Newborn babe in manger slept
With Mom and Dad safe they kept
God came down to bring us near
Great joy to all the people here

All the while a star shone bright
And Shepherds all beheld the light
Angels sang behind lowly hills
He’s come! He’s come! You must be still!

The shepherd’s ran to see the One
And gasped when they saw Heaven’s son
Wise men traveled on camels far
All because that lovely star

A rescuer! They whisper soft
Child on high from Heaven’s loft
A king they say he’ll grow to be
One side of the Holy three

A palace? No a homeless man
Poor of spirit though not of plan
The blind will see, the lame will leap!
To rule with service, our hearts to keep

Sad will perish, hate will cease
All the world will know is peace
What fear of death we oft live by
But he says this! Death too will die!

Born to rags though really king
Heaven fell soft and earth did sing
His name decrees he’s God with us
A Prince of Peace, his sword is just

God came down as little child
Be careful though, this lion’s wild
The world will know his boastful fame
And all will bow at Jesus’ Name!

The world will know his boastful fame
And all will bow at Jesus’ Name!

You and me, will bow at Jesus’ Name!

The Dead

It has come again –
The dead
It’s creeping in

I don’t mind it
It’s really not that bad
So, I let it in

It comes whether you want it to,
Or not
You can’t will it away

The dead doesn’t work like that
It is concentrated power
It’s consecrated too

The dead is a valley
In between two mountains
You must journey through

What is the difference,
Between the dead and winter?

Is a coat
The dead wears.


Hemingway said, “All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence you know.” Right now, mine is this: Jordan Pieniazek loved people well. He loved his wife. He loved his children. He loved his friends. He loved folks he’d just met. He loved people that others felt were hard to love and he made it look easy, effortless even. It was, and still is, such an active love, one that Jordan seemed to drape over you like a warm blanket. When you left being with him, the love he showed you would not fade, it would carry on into the car and remain during the ride home. I feel fortunate that I got a chance to see this love. To feel this love. To hear this love ring out of one incredible man. When I think of him, I will think of his encouragement and his kind words. What a joy it was to feel like you were exactly the person he wanted to be with. There was never a feeling like he had somewhere more important with more interesting people. Instead, you felt the very rare sensation that you were “it”. I imagine that being in the presence of God is quite a similar feeling. I hope that I can love my children and my future wife with the same sweetness, purity and fullness. I hope that I can speak as he did about his children; like they were treasures worthy of utmost protection. I am one of so many that feel impacted by the way he lived his life. What a wave can be caused by rock such as this. Until we meet again!


Can’t tell

I want to climb into the folds of your sawdusted, flannel shirts.
To feel your oil-stained hands pat my head.
To laugh with you real big, like nobody’s watching.
To run as fast as I can and look back and see you, smiling.
To fall into your arms when I’m scared of some big thunderstorm.
To leap in the field behind your house and have you sweep me back up.
To get hurt real bad just so you can tell me it’s gunna be alright.
To play cowboys and indians, with you pretending to be the bad guys.
To be the good guy caught in the bad guy’s grip.
To remember how poorly you pulled that off.
I want you to tell all your old stories. Of war and peace.
To fall asleep when you recite your poems.

In the years since, it’s been hard for people to tell where you end and He begins.
I still can’t tell the difference.