In the Presence of God

Reading back over some poems today, I found this one I wrote in 2011.  It got me thinking about my life and things I need to surrender to God.  I guess God can use our own writing to convict us.  I hope you enjoy the poem and will also be challenged by it. 

In the Presence of God
By Melody Beerbower, December 2011

If I were to stand before God today, 
What would I say?
To give account for all the things I’ve done,
For each careless action,
For each thoughtless word,
For each stroke of my pen,
For each piece of gossip I’ve heard
And not tried to stop
But listened for more,
For each minuet I’ve wasted, 
For each time I’ve given to the poor 
Yet with selfish intent
To build up my pride,
For each time I did not repent
Of sin I tried to hide,
For each time I thought I was doing good,
But my heart was not right,
For not doing the things I should, 
For each sinful delight.

Would I beg and plead
That my good works out weigh the bad,
That I took every chance
Every opportunity I had 
To do good to others,
And the Law I faithfully obeyed, 
Or, perhaps, that I couldn’t help my sin
Because that’s how I was made?
Or would I say, “Lord,
I am a sinner and my sins are great.
I have not faithfully followed Your word.
I’ve been filled with hate.
Though I strove to do what’s right,
My righteous deeds are but filthy rages in Your sight.
I’m not worthy to enter your kingdom,
Yet Your Son died for my sin,
And it’s through Him
I hope to enter in.”

One day,
Be it today, tomorrow, or many years hence,
We all will stand before God
And  have to make our defense.
When you stand before Him that day,
Will you be ready?
What will you say?

My Hair is not Gray

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
 

 I know a secret to keep you hair from going gray.  Eat healthy and diet. (Dye-it) (Get it?) :)

Yes. I made that up myself, while I was writing this poem I'm about to share. Of course, someone might have made it up before I did without my knowledge. It's very disappointing when that happens. I mean, imagine you were Neal Armstrong, you've landed on the moon and are just stepping out of the spaceship for the first time. Into your head pops this awesome line just as you set foot on the moon, but just as you open your mouth to speak, you see written in the dust, "I was here in1237 AD. What took you so long?' 
Forget the random date I chose, that would just burst your bubble!

Anyway, you may be wondering what this has to do with Mother's Day. Nothing much, so I will get on to the poem I wrote for Mom. I did not write it ON Mother's Day, but I have saved it for today, and Mom has not heard it yet.

I present to you this is a poem I wrote for Mother.  I hope you like it.  (The illustrations are not supposed to look like Mom, or anyone in particular.)


My Hair is not Gray
By Melody Beerbower, 4-12-13
Illustrated by Melody Beerbower
Dedicated to Mother and all Mothers who don't have gray hair.

Who are YOU to say
That my hair is turning gray?

It's not gray.
It's not. It's not.
I defy you to find a single spot.












That's not gray. It's called 'light black'.
An old color of hair that's coming back
Into style, so I'm told.
 

No! That does not mean that I am old.
I'm not old.
And this isn't gray.
You've got all your colors mixed up today.

 

Look. See, this is brown.
And here's some more.
Perhaps there's a little less than there was before,
But it's still there
As plain as day,
And that proves my hair's not gray.

What! You're still not convinced?
You say what of the rest of my hair?
The part that's not brown,
Right there, and right there?


Well perhaps my hair does have a silvery glow
Like the silvery moon shining off new fallen snow--










What? NO!
My hairs not WHITE!

If it looks that way it must be the light!

Yes, the light.

Now I'm on the right track.

If it weren't for the light,

My hair would look black.

Yes, my hair is black,
Light black and light brown,
With a touch of moonbeams
Mixed in the crown.

 










I am your Mother, so listen to me:
If you look closely, I think you will see,
No matter what others will say,
I am not old,
And my hair is not gray!

The End