A Tribute To My Mother

A TRIBUTE TO MY MOTHER





Within the temple of my heart, there is a lovely pictured face
So deeply etched by memory’s pen that time and tide cannot erase
This face I see within my dreams,
Her soft brown eyes, her smile so dear
When in the arms of sleep,
I drift back to my happy childhood years.
I hear her read the Word of God,
I kneel beside my little bed,
I feel her blessing as she lays her gentle hand upon my head.
I was so young when she went home,
I we wondered why she had to go.
How death could strike our little home,
And take the one we needed so.
But yet, I would not now recall her,
Back to earth, she is at rest.
And some sweet day we’ll understand,
Just why God’s way is best.
But as the months and years roll on,
Within my heart her memory glows.
And in that home of peace and love,
I feel my mother sees and knows.

This is another poem by my Grandma Tucker about her mother who passed away in her youth.
She also passed on at a young age.
Thankfully my mother is still going strong at 81 years.

My Grandma added the following short verse after one of her other poems (not this one) and I am including it here…

Dear Folks
Up here, wild berry picking is getting underway,
While the chiggers have been digging in,
As tho, they’ve come to stay.
They have plenty reinforcements
And are never battle weary,
We sure have paid a scratching price
To take just a few berries!!!!!

Tolerance by Edna Tucker

TOLERANCE





We meet with various opinions
As. we journey thru this life.
From men of low estate and men of rank.
But, please don’t get the notion,
This world just revolves for you.
And that you’re the only one
That’s not a crank
For you might be like the fellow,
A politician, too,
Who really seemed to think he knew it all
He didn’t seem aware of it,
But everybody knew,
That he was riding for an awful fall.
He dubbed the other fellow,
A dozen kinds of fool
He pictured him
A great big clumsy clown.
But, when the votes were counted,
He learned to his dismay
That it was the other guy,
That went to town.
So don’t go poking fingers
In some other fellow’s pie
More than likely, you will
Burn them to a crisp.
And if you really know it all,
Just keep it to yourself.
Don’t offer your advice
Unless you’re asked for.
For it’s best to work together
And be tolerant to all.
For everybody has
The right to think.
It also pays to bear in mind
When casting out your line,
That you’re not the only
Turtle in the tank.

Other poems by Edna Tucker
My Best
Have Faith In God
To My Dog

My Best by Edna Tucker

MY BEST





When day was done,

And purple shadows lengthened on the hills,

I wondered if the deeds I’d done

Would count for good or ill,

I wondered if I’d tried my best,

To help lift the load,

Of those I’d met bowed with care,

Along life’s rugged road.

If I had left a loving word

Or brushed away a tear,

Of those whose hearts were longing

For just a word of cheer.

And as I thought upon these things,

I was forced to admit,

That, busy with the cares of life,

Sometimes I do forget.

My heart was heavy,

As knelt to say my evening prayer,

To Him who had watched over me,

With such loving care.

I prayed, “Dear God,

Today is gone into eternity,

And now, I see so many things,

I could have done for Thee.

Give me another day, dear Lord,

Another chance to give,

Myself in helping others

To look to Thee and live.

That when another, day is gone,

And I’m put to the test

I find the joy that comes to those,

Who know they’ve done their best.

My best for Thee, my very best,

In lifting fallen men.

For life is short,

And many will not pass this way again.

Please keep my hands, my busy hands,

At Thy appointed tasks,

And let my motto ever be,

“For others first and last.”

In Memory by Edna Tucker

IN MEMORY





Written in memory of our dearly beloved father and grandfather, Robert Milton Brown
Whom God called home August 31, 1943

He’s gone. The sunlight doesn’t seem so, bright today.
A haunting sadness lingers in the air.
The old armchair is vacant,
The voice we loved is stilled.
For God has called our loved one over there.
Yet, we cannot help but listen,
For his foot fall on the walk.
And for the gentle tap, tap of his cane.
For it seems his spirit lingers
Around the old home place.
Altho’ we’ll never see him here again.

His last few, days on earth, he prayed so hard to die,
His shrunken body was so wracked with pain.
But, now bathed in the fountain
Of the crystal stream of life,
His body will grow strong and young again.
Just why this life must hold so much
Of heartbreak and of tears,
Is something that we cannot understand.
But, Jesus will reveal it. all to us some happy day,
When we are gathered there at God’s right hand.
We don’t know why we grieve
Because God called his spirit home,
And we were forced to lay him in the tomb.
He has only crossed the valley
That we all must cross someday.
To a paradise where fragrant flowers bloom.
We know that heaven now retains the treasures that it gave,
That earth the lonely casket only keeps.
And we feel the golden sunbeams love to linger round
‘The sacred place where dear old daddy sleeps.
The star of life has sunk from sight
For just a little while.
To rise again upon that blissful shore
Where like a precious jewel
In the crown of life he’s won
T’will shine amid the saints forever more.

 

Thanks for visiting. I hope you are blessed by my grandmother’s poem.

Please visit my homepage at “do dogs go to Heaven” while you are here.

Thank you and God bless.

Barry

I Often Thought

I Often Thought





I often thought when they were small

And marked crisscrosses on the wall,

That childless couples had the breaks.

I realize now, ’twas my mistake.

I often thought on baking day,

When they were always in the way,

That it would be, oh well, just fine

To have my kitchen cleared, one time.

I longed for solitude, it seemed,

Some leisure time to sit and dream.

But, as they leave the old home nest,

I’m being subjected to the test.

I find that youngster’s noisy ways,

Are better far than lonely days.

Today, my house is orderly,

But yet somehow, it don’t suit me.

I have a lot of leisure time,

But, they keep straying through my mind.

My daydreams are of by-gone years,

I salt my baking with my tears.

I don’t believe I’d mind at all,

To see cross marks on the wall.

To once more hear, ‘twould be so grand,

“Please mommy, may I lick the pan?”

This is a poem that was written by my grandmother, Edna Tucker. It is probably my favorite poem written by my grandmother. She died when I was 4 years old and I can’t really remember much about her except that she was kind to me. Edna Tucker’s poems were mostly published at the time by way of the local newspaper in a small town in Oklahoma were most of my family came from.

And I often thought, “Do dogs go to Heaven?”

Bible Verses to Comfort the Grieving

Here are some Bible verses to comfort the grieving in their time of need.

1 Thessalonians 4:14
But you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it in hand.
Psalm 10:14
“Surely the LORD is in the place, and I was not aware of it.”
Genesis 28:16
My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.
Psalm 119:50
It is only a matter of time before it is our “time to mourn.”
Ecclesiastes 3:4
The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning.
Ecclesiastes 7:4
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10
For you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul.
Psalm 31:7
“You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
John 6:67-68
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

To My Dog – A Pet Memorial Poem by Edna Tucker

Golden Retriever Memorial
Golden Retriever Memorial at Rainbow Bridge.
To my dog,

They say you have no soul, my little canine friend,
But, when we laid you down and heaped the mound,
I could feel that I would never fondle you again;
Or that I’d gaze no more into your honest eyes of brown.

Those eyes were deep, dark pools that seemed to say to me,
“Wherever you go, I’ll follow where you lead.
Through life’s disappointments, I will not forsake thee
To you I’ll prove a faithful friend indeed.”

I planted flowers by your resting place, Ole pal.
I unashamedly wiped away the tears.
I bowed my head and breathed a prayer of thankfulness,
That you had been my comrade through the years.

They say you have no soul. But yet, somehow,
I know that you are living on in blissful state,
And that somewhere beyond the border land,
When I arrive, I’ll find you waiting for me at the gate.

That you will wag your short stump of a tail,
And flash those canine teeth in a welcome grin.
I know you’re just a dog, but through the ages you and yours
Have proved to be mankind’s most faithful friend.

For The Love of Dog

For The Love Of Dog

Today, I was struck by a wonderful revelation. God does love

me. He really does love me. I really think I get it now… thanks

to my dogs.

Please let me explain. As I was trying to talk frankly with

Jesus (I sometimes imagine He is sitting on the loveseat

directly across from the couch where I usually sit as I pray and

read my Bible), I was suddenly struck by the realization that I

am pitiful. This happens to me a lot. I’m not a righteous man in

so many ways. I don’t love my neighbor as myself most of the

time and in fact I can barely stand to be around most people

for very long to name just one of my shortcomings. “How can

You possibly love me? How could You possibly die for me?

How can this really be true?” Suddenly I was interrupted by

one of our four dogs as she was attempting to steal a chew

bone from her sister. This fighting over bones is a frequently

occurrence among all four of our canine residents. That’s just

one of the many frustrations of dog ownership. But in spite of

all their shortcomings, I love them with all my heart. I love

each of them equally. I discipline them when necessary and

they are constantly doing the wrong thing. I try to train them to

behave properly and I can tell that they would do anything for

me if they could just understand what it is I am trying to get

them to do.

I think God must feel that way about me… about us. He

knows that I am trying to do the right thing most of the time.

Sometimes I lose my focus on Him. Kind of like my dogs when

they smell a bone. It’s hard to stay focused when there are so

many bones in the world. I talk to my dogs all the time, even

though I know they usually don’t understand what I’m trying to

tell them. They just aren’t as smart as us humans although

sometimes they do seem to understand exactly what I mean.

I’m sure God is talking to me all the time too and it must be

frustrating for Him too when I don’t hear or understand what

He’s trying to tell me. I hate to discipline my dogs. I’m sure it

hurts me more than it hurts them but I care about them and I

want them to be good dogs. I’m sure God hates to discipline us

too.

One thing I know about my dogs is that they love me and want

to please me more than anything else. I hope my dogs know

that I love them too no matter what they might do wrong. An d

that helps me to see how God could love me too, no matter

how many things I do wrong. He want me to do the right thing

and He will keep trying to train me to “fetch”. But I know He

will love me even if I don’t bring Him the bone.

SWEET MEMORIES OF MY CHILDREN by Edna Tucker

SWEET MEMORIES OF MY CHILDREN

 
I often thought when they were small
 
And marked crisscrosses on the wall,
 
That childless couples had the breaks.
 
I realize now, ’twas my mistake.
 
I often thought on baking day,
 
When they were always in the way,
 
That it would be, oh well, just fine
 
To have my kitchen cleared, one time.
 
I longed for solitude, it seemed,
 
Some leisure time to sit and dream.
 
But, as they leave the old home nest,
 
I’m being subjected to the test.
 
I find that youngster’s noisy ways,
 
Are better far than lonely days.
 
Today, my house is orderly,
 
But yet somehow, it don’t suit me.
 
I have a lot of leisure time,
 
But, they keep straying through my mind.
 
My daydreams are of by-gone years,
 
I salt my baking with my tears.
 
I don’t believe I’d mind at all,
 
To see cross marks on the wall.
 
To once more hear, ‘twould be so grand,
 
“Please mommy, may I lick the pan?”

(this is my favorite poem written by my grandmother)