A Simple Admission 

The Lord’s ways are not our ways.

He is good, kind, and gracious.

In His wisdom He has decreed our days

And has appointed the hour he takes us.


Kings and Fools

​Kings and fools 

 of the Earth

 might have their day.

But King Jesus

 shall ultimately

 have final say.

Dad Life: Lego Gun

This is a shout out to  sleep-deprived dads (and moms), especially to those who’ve been awake most of the night comforting a cranky baby or tending to sick kids. For parents with little ones, sleep is practically a barterable commodity. If it were possible, we’d all get together like a mountain man rendezvous, trying to trade a few packs of gummy snacks and dryer lint cash for a few hours of uninterrupted REM sleep. When I was a single man, I took sleep for granted. But I also wanted to eventually get married and have children. So on the other end of the spectrum, I understand there are people longing to start a family, and some who aren’t presently able to do so would give up a whole lot to make that a reality. Laying that all aside, I would go back and punch my bachelor counterpart in the face, give him an ice pack, then tell him to enjoy his good night’s rest. I now leave you with a verse of dad poetry.

A day off at home for a family man with six kids

Is probably different than a bachelor without a daughter or son:

On a quiet wintry morning the single man blissfully sleeps with closed eye lids

While the dad, in silent repose, gets jumped by a kid with a Lego gun.

To Those Just Passing Through


Rambler, rover, stranger, soldier—
Roll on, roll on!

Spite the pagan road.
Traverse the heavenly highway.
Glory in the Master Cartographer—
Rambler heart, roll on, roll on!

Desert springs will sustain thee,
Tho’ the villages disdain thee.
And while you bid them adieu,
Leave behind the dirt on your shoe.

Rambler, rover, stranger, soldier—
Roll on, roll on!

Three Emigrant Trail Stanzas

Winds pick up on the Pilot Valley,

Howl across the Pequop Range.

The moonlit twilight purple summer evenings

Leave you with a feeling both beautiful and strange

Hot and dusty Winnemucca,

Murmurings give way to spring,

The sweet scent of ranchers’ Ag burns

And the rabbit brush and sage turning green.

The California Trail beckons still,

Like it called the ambitious travelers of old.

It sings songs of dreams and graves,

It waits for some one to hear them told.

Galatian Stanzas

epistle to the galatians

“For freedom Christ has set me free,”

free to live in Him.

The Law demanded righteousness

and cursed my dreadful sin.

The Law demanded sinlessness

but I could not comply.

God’s holiness could accept nothing less

but that one should come to die.

A helpless wretch that I was,

God would be more than just

If He left me in my disgrace.

Aye! but in His good pleasure

His grace came down

And on the cross he took my place.