Verse and Prose
It Was A Fine Christmas Tree.
Reflections on the Serendipitous Behavior of a Grandchild Hannah - Hymn for Baptism Keeping Warm on a Cold and Snowy Windswept Night I Saw a Little Bluebird Passages Tears for my Sake Legacy 4 Girl of my Dreams |
Night of Travail
. . . And So We Sojourn together Lost Gold Uncle Preacher The Stories We Share Two Worldviews To have mattered |
2010 10 09 Duluth Park Point Peninsula
Click on File 12 to open a PDF collection of a few verses, prose
and commentaries that I have written. 60 Pages
It Was A Fine Christmas Tree
Do you remember that long ago December day
When we cut down the tree in the wood?
You were three, then four, then seventeen,
And now, dear children, you are grown.
We trudged through the woods and looked at one,
And then another to find the best we could.
Your life is your own now and so busy
With all that's important to make it your own.
The tree looked good wrapped in its lights,
With ornaments you made and ones from above
May your tree, too, be as big and as beautiful
And fill your hearts with memories of joy and love!
At Christmas time 1996
Reflections on the Serendipitous Behavior of a
Grandchild
He looked intently into my face and suddenly
Flexed straight his legs and with arms raised high:
Gooka!
As if an encounter with some strange revelation,
He smiled at me.
Gooka!
He turned summersault and summersault,
Then stood shoulders back and head raised high.
Gooka!
Then came crashing to my arms.
To Noah at Christmas time 1996
Hannah - Hymn for Baptism
Jesus calls you by the water
In His promise of the Father.
Now His child called in His Spirit,
Claimed new born of His merit.
Reserve this child for thy keeping,
In life or death, in joy or weeping;
Hold her close, heir of the kingdom
Satisfied in strong hope waiting.
Child of beauty, newborn image,
Called of God in His visage,
Wondrous design like no other;
Formed of father and of mother.
Alone this day, one and unique;
You’ve joined the throng of Jordan's water
To observe Christ's loving passion,
And receive His Spirit's fire.
In this Gift of Love divine,
Today a miracle sublime,
Jesus holds you to his breast,
Angels keep you, now to rest.
God grant this father caring dearly,
And grant this mother loving ever
Your passion for this child of wonder,
In your mercy for one another.
Alleluia
TRYGGARE KAN INGEN VARA
Dedicated to granddaughter Hannah Marie Cowan upon her Baptism
Daughter of Jeffrey Lawrence and LeAnn Karin Cowan
A child of God born May 8th, One thousand nine hundred ninety-seven
And baptized September 21 in the same year
Keeping Warm on a Cold and Snowy Windswept
Night
The two small rooms in the split log home are quiet and dim.
The wind howls and the oil lamp flickers in the draft.
The walls creak and the shutters bang.
The children are tucked into their quilts on the loft.
The night is long and you wait for spring on the Sheyenne River Plain.
Dedicated 1996 to great-grandparents
Bill and Margaret Cowan,
Married summer of 1866 at Clinton, Ontario
And homesteaded at Sheldon, Dakota
Territory, spring of 1880.
I Saw a Little Bluebird
Sitting on a fence back away from the road,
I saw a little bluebird of a glorious hue
Sitting on a fence 'gainst the drape of gray - green hills,
God's simple little creature so wondrously blue
I never heard him sing, I never saw him fly
I just saw him perched there as we quickly drove by.
I wished I could hear him or see where he flew,
I only saw him sit there so wondrously blue.
We drove from Minnesota, through South Dakota and
Wyoming,
Through Montana and Idaho and into Oregon, too.
But I saw not a creature more beautiful than he,
That little mountain bluebird so wondrously blue.
Oh, We drove far to quickly
and almost missed that moment of time
As we traveled on by and far out of sight.
Oh, may the vision of that bluebird be etched in my mind,
And may I never forget that fleeting moment we met!
Summer of 1996
Commentary: As we travel along life's road, we can make differences
in the people we meet and even those we fleetingly brush by. And
others make a difference in us - -different viewpoints, different insights,
different actions and hopes. And just think how a little bluebird, too -
-One of God's little creatures - - can instill a sense of peace, of joy
and beauty by simply being there - just like you! Thanks be to God. Lc
Passages
"As a pebble dropped in a nearby brook or faraway sea
Creates a little ripple in the water for a moment;
Like a wildflower blossoms on a nearby glade or faraway
Mountain and blows in the wind for a while;
We are a small bit of history unfolding . .
We serve in some small way for a time for a few.
A cup of water, the binding of another's wounds,
A kind word, a story of hope:
This is our treasure and this is our joy.
This is surely the path to which we are called."
Reflection Based on Romans 12: 9 - 13
Larry Cowan, 1992
Tears for my Sake
"Tears for my sake.
Tears for whose sake?
Tears for Jesus sake.
Tears for the lost."
1996
From the essay, “Tears For My Sake”
Legacy
I leave no legacy, no remembrance of me.
Of a life in a time that was, no monument can tell.
Like a moment lost in a dream,
I am soon forgotten.
The gold from this life I must leave behind.
What then? Is there any I can keep?
Is it all forgotten? Is it all for naught?
What token can I keep as a remembrance of me?
It is only the road that others will take
Because I was there.
The monument I leave is the difference in others,
Whether for good or for ill.
So to have mattered- to have counted,
To have made a difference in someone's life
Is the only gold that we take from this earth.
1989
Girl of my Dreams
A girl-child born
cousins
Tending to her own in her youth
Fell in love in the park at eighteen
Darling of the family
Joys and sorrows together
Raising family, weddings and children
Work and retirement
cousins
38th Street
Grief and sorrow and
So rest now; we’ll party later
A story of mom 2008
Jesus’ Little Children
Buried somewhere 'neath the brown earth,
Someone cherished you, someone loved you long ago.
You've gone to Jesus to play and romp,
To giggle and laugh.
You look down on us and wonder,
It's such fun - You could laugh, too!
1996
Commentary: Although these words are not exactly theologically correct,
it's good to know that God cares for each and every one of us and that
the children are in Jesus' loving care.
Vis., Matthew 19: 1,3,4 (RSV): "Some people brought children to Jesus
for him to place his hands on them and to pray for them, but the disciples
scolded the people. Jesus said, 'Let the children come to me and do not
stop them, because the Kingdom of Heavenbelongs to such as these’.”
Night of Travail
Part I
Crouched in the darkness of the hovel under the bridge,
Two little ones unwrap newsprint to expose the stale scraps
From the trash in the alley above;
Perhaps there'll be no tomorrow, perhaps there'll be no more tomorrows.
Weary from the day's searching, they'll sleep and wake, sleep and wake,
For the approaching night will be damp and cold, damp and cold.
As in a dream Jesus came, real and true, a tiny child so frail and soft.
Keep him warm!
Cover his feet!
Wrap him in rags!
Cuddle him close and nurse him if you can.
Jesus, if you stay the night perhaps we'll make tomorrow!
Stay with me now, Oh please! Keep me warm and stay the hunger.
Little Jesus, perhaps we'll make tomorrow, perhaps we'll make tomorrow.
Clouds drift unseen across the night sky and the cold hours slowly pass.
Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask you to stay
Close by me forever and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in your tender care
And take us to heaven to live with you there, to live with you there.
Part II
The sun sinks low in the sky and reflects brilliant reds and
orange in the distant clouds.
The road winds around the hills and they hurry along the trail.
The woman at full term bounces heavily upon the ass,
While her husband sets the brisk pace at her side.
It had been warm earlier in the day but a breeze was blowing now
and the air was cool.
"Mary, do you feel ok?
How is your back?
I'm sorry, we'll be there soon."
The village will be crowded with travelers and they are troubled
that perhaps they'll find no room.
The angels will sing tonight.
December 10, 1997
Just as I was finishing this, the phone rang and it was a volunteer for
Freedom Place Up and Out of Poverty, a non-profit group that
places homeless families. 2630 Cedar Ave. S., in Minneapolis.
I had given them a donation back n March of 1993
Uncanny.
. . . And So We Sojourn Together
Begotten of a place I never have seen,
From long ago toils upon a road much forgotten,
You are my friend, my neighbor, and my lover.
Let us hold hands, hold tight, and don’t let go,
For when it's time to go, it was good holding hands.
Ah, youth, reach thy sovereign hand.
Hold tight to the ring; hold it high!
Flex your sinews and shout your song,
Dance in the meadow and dance on the sea,
And embrace her glory with all thy might!
From the depths of sorrow and the abyss of grief,
Comes the dawn of knowing the breadth of great joy.
Joy! Oh Joy! Catch the ring! Hold my hand!
For what is joy but an opposite measure of grief,
For sorrow and joy meet in the Presence of God.
A collage of families across this broad this Earth,
Unique, diverse and remarkable;
From high desert sands and high mountain slopes,
To low windy coastlands and low fertile plains;
Let us hold hands, we're one in this place.
Until one approaches the face of death's battle,
Courage is a shallow thing.
At the deathbed of one loved, or when faced by one's own,
Courage is not to lay fault or say who is to blame,
Courage is to say I forgive, I have loved, hold my hand.
Brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers,
Let us bear one another's burdens; bless; celebrate and delight.
Let us hold hands as we sojourn together.
Let us hold hands, hold tight, and don’t let go,
For when it's time to go, it was good holding hands.
Six verses on our walk through life
Winter of 1995
Lost Gold
Part I
I leave no legacy, no remembrance of me.
Of a life in a time that was, no monument can tell.
Like a moment lost in a dream,
I am soon forgotten.
The gold from this life I must leave behind.
What then? Is there any I can keep?
Is it all forgotten? Is it all for naught?
What token can I keep as a remembrance of me?
It is only the road that others will take
Because I was there.
The monument I leave is the difference in others;
Whether for good or for ill,
So to have mattered- to have counted,
To have made a difference in someone's life
Is the only gold that we take from this earth.
Part II
Laid waste in death are the lives of children,
Of brothers and sisters, of fathers and mothers.
Their days you stole would have numbered
From the time of Christ.
Laid waste in grief upon the living children,
Of brothers and sisters: of fathers and mothers.
Their days to remember
Will span 10,000 years.
Is this the legacy you left behind,
Is this the Gold you took from the earth?
To matter - to have counted, to have made a difference
Is the only Gold we take from this earth....
To have given a cup of water,
To have bound another's wounds,
To have spoken a kind word or a story of hope;
This is the treasure of Gold we take from this earth....
Before the beginning
And far off into the eons of distant time;
The echo resounds:
"My loving kindness endures from everlasting to everlasting."
The token of Gold has been bought
For fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters.
1992 Free verse Adapted April 1995 based on
Oklahoma City bombing.
(I don’t consider this verse terribly good but here it is.)
Uncle Preacher
For being there to baptize Shirley and Dad,
For being there to baptize Junior and Mary Ann
And little Wayne, and for baptizing my
brother Billy and me*.
But mostly I want to thank you for being there
for mom and dad during their hard times and good,
For your support, counsel and prayers
during the 1930's and early 1940's.
Your presence did not go unnoticed and I suspect that,
unbeknownst to you and to the times,
many lives were changed, even to the
grandchildren and great-grandchildren
of those to whom you ministered.
Thanks.
Dedicated to the Rev. Ole Akre,
born May 1st, 1870 - died February 23rd, 1946.
Pastor, The NorwegianLutheran Church
By grand-nephew Larry Cowan, 1997
* Dear Betty, not named here, was baptized in the hospital
shortly before she died by Rev. Bittner, a hospital chaplain, a
nd witnessed by her nurse.
The Stories We Share
L Cowan 2009
Being community is about the stories we share.
It’s about your story.
It’s about my story.
We are community to the degree that we listen to one another.
Whether it’s the people with whom we worship on Sunday;
Or the neighbors along our streets we see each day;
Or the stranger in the city who happens by;
Or the lonely and disenfranchised who need our care.
It’s about the stories of Jesus who attends to us all.
Las historias que compartimos (The Stories We Share)
La comunidad de historias que compartir
Being trata de las historias que compartimos.
Se trata de su historia. Se trata de mi historia.
Somos la comunidad en la medida que escuchamos a uno con el otro.
Si se trata de las personas con quien nos adoran el domingo;
O los vecinos a lo largo de nuestras calles que vemos cada día;
O el extraño en la ciudad que pase por;
O la solitaria y desprotegidos que necesitan nuestra atención.
Se trata de la historia y las minas y la apertura para compartir.
Se trata de las historias de Jesús que atiende a todos nosotros.
Two Worldviews
I’ve worked hard and I like my stuff.
I want my stuff secure and I’ll fight for it.
I want more stuff.
Nobody should have too much.
Everyone should have enough,
and Nobody should go without.
Larry Cowan 2005
To have mattered. . . .
Larry Cowan 1992
"I leave no legacy, no remembrance of me.
Of a life in a time that was, no monument can tell.
I am soon forgotten.
What gold there may be in this life, I must leave behind.
What is it then? Is it all forgotten?
What can I leave as a remembrance of me?
It is only the road that others will take because I was there.
The monument I leave is the difference in others;
Whether for good or for ill....
So to have mattered - to have counted,
To have made a difference is the only gold
That we take from this earth...
We hear so much these days of the term
"to make a difference." A few years back, a
survey was taken of a group of old folks and they were asked to rank what they
feared most in life. What they said was that:
1. The first and most fearful is to know that
your life has made no difference to anyone.
2. The second is that nobody cares and that
you may be alone.
3. And the third and least fearful is that
you will die and it will be over."
I am then brought back to the Boy Scout Law of my youth which
states, "A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind,
obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." Whether boy
or girl, woman or man, if one follows these rules throughout life,
certainly in old age there will tears of joy to know that there has
been a difference because of you
and commentaries that I have written. 60 Pages
It Was A Fine Christmas Tree
Do you remember that long ago December day
When we cut down the tree in the wood?
You were three, then four, then seventeen,
And now, dear children, you are grown.
We trudged through the woods and looked at one,
And then another to find the best we could.
Your life is your own now and so busy
With all that's important to make it your own.
The tree looked good wrapped in its lights,
With ornaments you made and ones from above
May your tree, too, be as big and as beautiful
And fill your hearts with memories of joy and love!
At Christmas time 1996
Reflections on the Serendipitous Behavior of a
Grandchild
He looked intently into my face and suddenly
Flexed straight his legs and with arms raised high:
Gooka!
As if an encounter with some strange revelation,
He smiled at me.
Gooka!
He turned summersault and summersault,
Then stood shoulders back and head raised high.
Gooka!
Then came crashing to my arms.
To Noah at Christmas time 1996
Hannah - Hymn for Baptism
Jesus calls you by the water
In His promise of the Father.
Now His child called in His Spirit,
Claimed new born of His merit.
Reserve this child for thy keeping,
In life or death, in joy or weeping;
Hold her close, heir of the kingdom
Satisfied in strong hope waiting.
Child of beauty, newborn image,
Called of God in His visage,
Wondrous design like no other;
Formed of father and of mother.
Alone this day, one and unique;
You’ve joined the throng of Jordan's water
To observe Christ's loving passion,
And receive His Spirit's fire.
In this Gift of Love divine,
Today a miracle sublime,
Jesus holds you to his breast,
Angels keep you, now to rest.
God grant this father caring dearly,
And grant this mother loving ever
Your passion for this child of wonder,
In your mercy for one another.
Alleluia
TRYGGARE KAN INGEN VARA
Dedicated to granddaughter Hannah Marie Cowan upon her Baptism
Daughter of Jeffrey Lawrence and LeAnn Karin Cowan
A child of God born May 8th, One thousand nine hundred ninety-seven
And baptized September 21 in the same year
Keeping Warm on a Cold and Snowy Windswept
Night
The two small rooms in the split log home are quiet and dim.
The wind howls and the oil lamp flickers in the draft.
The walls creak and the shutters bang.
The children are tucked into their quilts on the loft.
The night is long and you wait for spring on the Sheyenne River Plain.
Dedicated 1996 to great-grandparents
Bill and Margaret Cowan,
Married summer of 1866 at Clinton, Ontario
And homesteaded at Sheldon, Dakota
Territory, spring of 1880.
I Saw a Little Bluebird
Sitting on a fence back away from the road,
I saw a little bluebird of a glorious hue
Sitting on a fence 'gainst the drape of gray - green hills,
God's simple little creature so wondrously blue
I never heard him sing, I never saw him fly
I just saw him perched there as we quickly drove by.
I wished I could hear him or see where he flew,
I only saw him sit there so wondrously blue.
We drove from Minnesota, through South Dakota and
Wyoming,
Through Montana and Idaho and into Oregon, too.
But I saw not a creature more beautiful than he,
That little mountain bluebird so wondrously blue.
Oh, We drove far to quickly
and almost missed that moment of time
As we traveled on by and far out of sight.
Oh, may the vision of that bluebird be etched in my mind,
And may I never forget that fleeting moment we met!
Summer of 1996
Commentary: As we travel along life's road, we can make differences
in the people we meet and even those we fleetingly brush by. And
others make a difference in us - -different viewpoints, different insights,
different actions and hopes. And just think how a little bluebird, too -
-One of God's little creatures - - can instill a sense of peace, of joy
and beauty by simply being there - just like you! Thanks be to God. Lc
Passages
"As a pebble dropped in a nearby brook or faraway sea
Creates a little ripple in the water for a moment;
Like a wildflower blossoms on a nearby glade or faraway
Mountain and blows in the wind for a while;
We are a small bit of history unfolding . .
We serve in some small way for a time for a few.
A cup of water, the binding of another's wounds,
A kind word, a story of hope:
This is our treasure and this is our joy.
This is surely the path to which we are called."
Reflection Based on Romans 12: 9 - 13
Larry Cowan, 1992
Tears for my Sake
"Tears for my sake.
Tears for whose sake?
Tears for Jesus sake.
Tears for the lost."
1996
From the essay, “Tears For My Sake”
Legacy
I leave no legacy, no remembrance of me.
Of a life in a time that was, no monument can tell.
Like a moment lost in a dream,
I am soon forgotten.
The gold from this life I must leave behind.
What then? Is there any I can keep?
Is it all forgotten? Is it all for naught?
What token can I keep as a remembrance of me?
It is only the road that others will take
Because I was there.
The monument I leave is the difference in others,
Whether for good or for ill.
So to have mattered- to have counted,
To have made a difference in someone's life
Is the only gold that we take from this earth.
1989
Girl of my Dreams
A girl-child born
cousins
Tending to her own in her youth
Fell in love in the park at eighteen
Darling of the family
Joys and sorrows together
Raising family, weddings and children
Work and retirement
cousins
38th Street
Grief and sorrow and
So rest now; we’ll party later
A story of mom 2008
Jesus’ Little Children
Buried somewhere 'neath the brown earth,
Someone cherished you, someone loved you long ago.
You've gone to Jesus to play and romp,
To giggle and laugh.
You look down on us and wonder,
It's such fun - You could laugh, too!
1996
Commentary: Although these words are not exactly theologically correct,
it's good to know that God cares for each and every one of us and that
the children are in Jesus' loving care.
Vis., Matthew 19: 1,3,4 (RSV): "Some people brought children to Jesus
for him to place his hands on them and to pray for them, but the disciples
scolded the people. Jesus said, 'Let the children come to me and do not
stop them, because the Kingdom of Heavenbelongs to such as these’.”
Night of Travail
Part I
Crouched in the darkness of the hovel under the bridge,
Two little ones unwrap newsprint to expose the stale scraps
From the trash in the alley above;
Perhaps there'll be no tomorrow, perhaps there'll be no more tomorrows.
Weary from the day's searching, they'll sleep and wake, sleep and wake,
For the approaching night will be damp and cold, damp and cold.
As in a dream Jesus came, real and true, a tiny child so frail and soft.
Keep him warm!
Cover his feet!
Wrap him in rags!
Cuddle him close and nurse him if you can.
Jesus, if you stay the night perhaps we'll make tomorrow!
Stay with me now, Oh please! Keep me warm and stay the hunger.
Little Jesus, perhaps we'll make tomorrow, perhaps we'll make tomorrow.
Clouds drift unseen across the night sky and the cold hours slowly pass.
Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask you to stay
Close by me forever and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in your tender care
And take us to heaven to live with you there, to live with you there.
Part II
The sun sinks low in the sky and reflects brilliant reds and
orange in the distant clouds.
The road winds around the hills and they hurry along the trail.
The woman at full term bounces heavily upon the ass,
While her husband sets the brisk pace at her side.
It had been warm earlier in the day but a breeze was blowing now
and the air was cool.
"Mary, do you feel ok?
How is your back?
I'm sorry, we'll be there soon."
The village will be crowded with travelers and they are troubled
that perhaps they'll find no room.
The angels will sing tonight.
December 10, 1997
Just as I was finishing this, the phone rang and it was a volunteer for
Freedom Place Up and Out of Poverty, a non-profit group that
places homeless families. 2630 Cedar Ave. S., in Minneapolis.
I had given them a donation back n March of 1993
Uncanny.
. . . And So We Sojourn Together
Begotten of a place I never have seen,
From long ago toils upon a road much forgotten,
You are my friend, my neighbor, and my lover.
Let us hold hands, hold tight, and don’t let go,
For when it's time to go, it was good holding hands.
Ah, youth, reach thy sovereign hand.
Hold tight to the ring; hold it high!
Flex your sinews and shout your song,
Dance in the meadow and dance on the sea,
And embrace her glory with all thy might!
From the depths of sorrow and the abyss of grief,
Comes the dawn of knowing the breadth of great joy.
Joy! Oh Joy! Catch the ring! Hold my hand!
For what is joy but an opposite measure of grief,
For sorrow and joy meet in the Presence of God.
A collage of families across this broad this Earth,
Unique, diverse and remarkable;
From high desert sands and high mountain slopes,
To low windy coastlands and low fertile plains;
Let us hold hands, we're one in this place.
Until one approaches the face of death's battle,
Courage is a shallow thing.
At the deathbed of one loved, or when faced by one's own,
Courage is not to lay fault or say who is to blame,
Courage is to say I forgive, I have loved, hold my hand.
Brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers,
Let us bear one another's burdens; bless; celebrate and delight.
Let us hold hands as we sojourn together.
Let us hold hands, hold tight, and don’t let go,
For when it's time to go, it was good holding hands.
Six verses on our walk through life
Winter of 1995
Lost Gold
Part I
I leave no legacy, no remembrance of me.
Of a life in a time that was, no monument can tell.
Like a moment lost in a dream,
I am soon forgotten.
The gold from this life I must leave behind.
What then? Is there any I can keep?
Is it all forgotten? Is it all for naught?
What token can I keep as a remembrance of me?
It is only the road that others will take
Because I was there.
The monument I leave is the difference in others;
Whether for good or for ill,
So to have mattered- to have counted,
To have made a difference in someone's life
Is the only gold that we take from this earth.
Part II
Laid waste in death are the lives of children,
Of brothers and sisters, of fathers and mothers.
Their days you stole would have numbered
From the time of Christ.
Laid waste in grief upon the living children,
Of brothers and sisters: of fathers and mothers.
Their days to remember
Will span 10,000 years.
Is this the legacy you left behind,
Is this the Gold you took from the earth?
To matter - to have counted, to have made a difference
Is the only Gold we take from this earth....
To have given a cup of water,
To have bound another's wounds,
To have spoken a kind word or a story of hope;
This is the treasure of Gold we take from this earth....
Before the beginning
And far off into the eons of distant time;
The echo resounds:
"My loving kindness endures from everlasting to everlasting."
The token of Gold has been bought
For fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters.
1992 Free verse Adapted April 1995 based on
Oklahoma City bombing.
(I don’t consider this verse terribly good but here it is.)
Uncle Preacher
For being there to baptize Shirley and Dad,
For being there to baptize Junior and Mary Ann
And little Wayne, and for baptizing my
brother Billy and me*.
But mostly I want to thank you for being there
for mom and dad during their hard times and good,
For your support, counsel and prayers
during the 1930's and early 1940's.
Your presence did not go unnoticed and I suspect that,
unbeknownst to you and to the times,
many lives were changed, even to the
grandchildren and great-grandchildren
of those to whom you ministered.
Thanks.
Dedicated to the Rev. Ole Akre,
born May 1st, 1870 - died February 23rd, 1946.
Pastor, The NorwegianLutheran Church
By grand-nephew Larry Cowan, 1997
* Dear Betty, not named here, was baptized in the hospital
shortly before she died by Rev. Bittner, a hospital chaplain, a
nd witnessed by her nurse.
The Stories We Share
L Cowan 2009
Being community is about the stories we share.
It’s about your story.
It’s about my story.
We are community to the degree that we listen to one another.
Whether it’s the people with whom we worship on Sunday;
Or the neighbors along our streets we see each day;
Or the stranger in the city who happens by;
Or the lonely and disenfranchised who need our care.
It’s about the stories of Jesus who attends to us all.
Las historias que compartimos (The Stories We Share)
La comunidad de historias que compartir
Being trata de las historias que compartimos.
Se trata de su historia. Se trata de mi historia.
Somos la comunidad en la medida que escuchamos a uno con el otro.
Si se trata de las personas con quien nos adoran el domingo;
O los vecinos a lo largo de nuestras calles que vemos cada día;
O el extraño en la ciudad que pase por;
O la solitaria y desprotegidos que necesitan nuestra atención.
Se trata de la historia y las minas y la apertura para compartir.
Se trata de las historias de Jesús que atiende a todos nosotros.
Two Worldviews
I’ve worked hard and I like my stuff.
I want my stuff secure and I’ll fight for it.
I want more stuff.
Nobody should have too much.
Everyone should have enough,
and Nobody should go without.
Larry Cowan 2005
To have mattered. . . .
Larry Cowan 1992
"I leave no legacy, no remembrance of me.
Of a life in a time that was, no monument can tell.
I am soon forgotten.
What gold there may be in this life, I must leave behind.
What is it then? Is it all forgotten?
What can I leave as a remembrance of me?
It is only the road that others will take because I was there.
The monument I leave is the difference in others;
Whether for good or for ill....
So to have mattered - to have counted,
To have made a difference is the only gold
That we take from this earth...
We hear so much these days of the term
"to make a difference." A few years back, a
survey was taken of a group of old folks and they were asked to rank what they
feared most in life. What they said was that:
1. The first and most fearful is to know that
your life has made no difference to anyone.
2. The second is that nobody cares and that
you may be alone.
3. And the third and least fearful is that
you will die and it will be over."
I am then brought back to the Boy Scout Law of my youth which
states, "A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind,
obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." Whether boy
or girl, woman or man, if one follows these rules throughout life,
certainly in old age there will tears of joy to know that there has
been a difference because of you