Doin’ What I Was Created To Do

It’s a quiet unmolested mornin’. Only the song of a few sparrows flittin’ here and there fill the air. ‘Cept the grouchy sound of a Bell’s vireo, chatterin’ and gripin’ over some happy bird’s life.

The smell of spring mingles with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee sittin’ on the stand next to me. Hard to resist taken a seat in my favorite back porch chair. Ahhhh. Jes plain peaceful. I’m sittin’ relaxed, quiet; listenin and breathin’ the Lord’s good air. My elbow bends, automatic like, to draw up a sip of that steamin black brew.

My eye catches movement above me. Cat like reflexes turn my head up to the edge of the porch roof; pointy little nose, whiskers shining’ in the sun light and two big eyes embedded in a furry little face are leaned over the edge. A Fox squirrel is starring me down from his loft, about five feet up. His head disappears in a few seconds, then reappears. Seconds later…gone again…but not far. He takes to the air from the roof to the fence line. He scampers across the top of the fence and catches the first branch he sees. Up he goes, into his element.

The tall standing Red Oaks, Post Oaks and Black Jacks are nothin’ more than a maze of trails and back roads to that little ol’ Fox squirrel…just a playground. Gray coat and golden belly, the little feller winds his way through that maze of limbs and branches, dodging leaves and Jays.

He chatters his way along a crooked, snarled trail of branches and twigs. Up one limb, down another; leaps four feet onto a tiny twig that would hardly hold one of those sparrows. I see panic in his eyes as he is scrabblin’ to land on another more suitable perch. Then he stops. Tail twitchin’, curlin’ and straightening. Off again. In a flurry of furry moves he disappears into that leafy maze – I’m lookin’ at branches movin’ but he’s clean outa sight.

“Now, Lord, where you recon that little feller is headed?”

Much to my surprise, the Lord answered me. “Well,” he says, “I ‘spose the same place as you.”

“Huh? I mean ‘xcuse me Lord?”

“Whatcha got planned for your day pard? Lots of runnin’ and scramblin’, tail twitchin’ and nail bitin’ leaps onto thin branches? – That little feller is jes doin’ what I created him to do. How ‘bout you?”

Now, a smart man knows when he’s licked. Liftin’ my eyebrows into those trees, lookin’ jes over the back lip of that cup I’m drawin’ up to drink from, I take a long slurppy sip of hot coffee. Thinkin’ real careful like.

A feller needs to consider carefully what he’s fixin’ to say to the One who created all I’m takin’ in this mornin’. I’m thinking’, “Better get this right Doc.”

A few quiet moments pass.

“Well, Lord, I’d be pleased to be at your disposal today. I’m gonna spend some time in this Book of yours by my side and I’ll be listenin’ to what you got to say.”

“SHOW ME LORD, WHAT I WAS CREATED FOR TODAY.”

Whatever I do Lord; I’ll do it with all my might and give my all to honor you today.

(Ecc 9:10; 1Co 10:31)

(c) Photos & Verse according to RWHollar

March 31, 2017

Here Comes The Rain

Here Comes The Rain

Painting by Jack Terry

(Verse according to RWHollar)

Lightin’ a shuck, we’re runnin’ hard for shelter;

Here comes the rain pourin’ down helter skelter.

Thunder cracks, lightnin’ flashes and steed bolts with power;

The line shack’s in view, but further ‘an I remember.

Yellow slicker a’ flyin’, rain beaten our face;

Horse and rider in dead run, to find a dry place.

Beatin’ hooves, mud flyin’, soaked through from the storm;

Got one thing in mind. Get safe, dry and warm.

Zachariah 14:7

Zachariah 14:7

Painting by Larry Dyke

(Verse according to RWHollar)

May 23, 2016

A cracklin’ fire burned near where I was standin’,

The mornin’ light rose high in a hazy horizon.

A river flowed fast, her path to abide,

Gurglin’ and bubblin’ ‘tween rocks on each side.

Green phosphorus leaves come alive in the day,

Before daylight was showin’ they’as colorless and gray.

Night turnin’ to day was inevitable and then…

My thoughts turned to Scripture, Ma’ read when I was ten.

“On that day no sources of light will shine,

It will only be daylight, and then all the time.

Only the Lord knows how this could be,

Guess it’ll be Him, given us all light to see.”

Now old Zachariah, he had an eye for the future;

But you gotta listen to the Lord to get that same picture.

Those on the good side sees HIS brightness of day;

But there’s a dark side too, where others will stay.

Sun’s up now; the campfire’s a’smolderin’;

Oil lamps’ snuffed out and the day’s breeze is blowin’.

Its clear there’s a God and His Word we can’t bend.
I’m trustin’ He’s faithful, right down to the end.

(c) RWHollar
May 23, 2016

Hazlewood

Some time ago I’d been working with some people, former prison inmates and their families; just sharin’ the love of Jesus with them, tryin’ to meet their needs. A man (name’s James Hazlewood) was helping. At some point during the evening’s activities he stepped up to me and shoved a napkin into my hand with some writin’ on it. I put it in my pocket nonchalant like. Later, when I got home, I pulled the napkin outa my pocket and read it. What a blessing. Thanks pard. You’re a blessing.

This is what he wrote. I just call it…

Hazlewood

Just an old Gospel cowboy ridin’ on a wilderness range;
But he rides for the Master, gathering up His strays.

And he seeks for halt and lame ones and ornery crosseyed bulls;
He knows they are all precious to the Savior who he serves.

When at last the herd is gathered safe in the heavenly home;
He’ll hear his name called softly and then “Partner, well done.”

The Best Sunday Service Of All

*In memory of Julius “Jay” Bruner

(March 30, 1931 – November 28, 2010)

Well, it was Sunday mornin’ early when I heard that distant call.
I’d been a’mendin’ fences since Thanksgiving; two, three days as I recall.
The alarm goin’ off seemed early, but I jumped right out of bed;
It was time to dress for worship, Sunday service, straight ahead.

Yes sir, it was Sunday mornin’ early when I heard that distant call;
Time to go to worship, givin’ thanks to God for all.
Seen Lucy fixin’ breakfast; gosh my Lord is good.
She’s my pardner and my sidekick; I let her know just where I stood.

Yep, it was Sunday mornin’ early when I heard that distant call.

Felt a strange sensation ’bout the service I’d attend;
Knew it would be special, spendin’ time with God and friends.
So I stepped on through that kitchen door; time to pray, and eat , and go.
But what came next, to my surprise, a feller could not know.

Music was a rignin’ out with sounds I’d never heard.
It was singin’ so angelic it caught my off my guard.
It was Sunday morn in heaven and a service to beat all;
Jesus high and lifted up said, “Jay, I sent that call.”

Yep, it was Sunday mornin’ early when I heard that distant call.
I’d exchanged a world of mendin’ fences to join…
“…the best Sunday service of all.”

(c) RWHollar
November 30, 2010

*Talked to my friend Kip, son of Julius, on November 30, 2010. We talked about how his dad was getting ready for church the day he went home to be with the Lord. We kidded a little about getting ready for church and waking up in heaven. Kip said, “Yea, that would be the best Sunday service of all.” Now, I don’t claim to be any great hand at cowboy poetry, but my friend’s words got me to thinking. So I sat down and wrote these few thoughts about a dad revered, remembered, and loved.