Up from the Ruins (an evangelist’s account)

I remember the shiftless

I remember the bound

I remember the weekend highs

The devil’s bloodhound.

And where might I wake up?

A stairwell or lawn.

And lusty nights offered

As Slewfoot’s sick pawn.

So full of excuses

But empty in fact.

No gumption to change course

No courage to act.

But Jesus had sweet plans

And Jesus had Love

And I was His target

For Family Above.



 (as friend Brody might have put it. Now travels Canada with his treasured wife Deidre. Camping. Smiling. Speaking. Now meeting folks who are eager for change, peace and belonging. And their children.)