"He Touched Us All"

One of the most charming young men that I have ever known was a "special needs" student at the school where I have served as both a teacher and school administrator. This 17 year-old student, Kameron, left a deep impression on my life, as well as the lives of many. He never allowed his "disabilities" to keep him down, but rather he turned them into "abilities" to speak to the hearts of those he contacted. He passed away on December 31st, 2016. His passing into Heaven left an emptiness inside us all that can never be filled by anything other than God's grace. I placed the photo of Kameron's handprint in the center of this poem. It is the clay impression taken by his family the day he died. This photo reminds me of the impression he left on me.

"Buckets Full of Love"

 

Written for Mrs. Sylvia Rager, who for these years, showed up at Vacation Bible School and served more than Snacks. She served us all “Buckets of Love"

 

 

 

 

 

As July summer rolls around

And VBS draws near

We get our games, the crafts, and snacks

For our favorite time of year

 

The kids get all excited

All our workers get new shirts

We put up posters, practice skits

And send out loud alerts

 

Then here comes Monday evening

The Buses roll on in

We sing and clap and have such fun

Then preach of hell and sin

 

The youngins come in by the droves

With pennies in their hands

We take up offerings for the Lord

We’ll send to foreign lands

 

Some kids get loud, some fussy

Some quiet as a dove

But when they leave to head on home

They take Buckets Full of Love

 

Who made the Buckets each one bears?

Who put such love inside?

To pour out over every child

This Love so Deep and Wide

 

For every child is a gift

The ones that makes us smile

And even ones that draw our frown

Who force us the extra mile

 

Yes, they all need bathed with charity

From head to knees and toes

To rid them of their hurts and griefs

The pain only their God knows

 

Buckets Full of Jesus Love

Dripped over every kid

To heal wounds of a cruel world

Their scars so often hid

 

Who gathered all these cherished pails

And placed such care in them

Who emptied all a mother’s love

And filled them to the brim

 

This love that soothes a child soul

And gives them joy anew

I know who poured these Buckets

Sweet Mrs. Rager, It was YOU.

 

He Called Us Mom and Dad

 

One of the most difficult times  in the lives of any couple, is when they are expecting a new baby, and suddenly the life of the baby slips away while still in mother's womb. It has been two years since we experienced this heartache in our lives. We have tried to find God in sadness. We know that He is there and resolve to love Him, though we may never understand the "why".

 

 

  

 

The grief that you carry will oneday subside

As we near heaven’s shore forever up there abide

 

The sorrow you felt in the cold doctor’s room

Will be forgotten up there where there’s no death nor gloom

 

How we hoped for a child to both call our own

But in a moment was lost and God’s reasons unknown

 

You sobbed every night awake next to my side

Your tears I tried to prevent, my soul ached as you cried

 

We both had high hopes of our having a child

I envisioned him robust but with your spirit ever mild

 

I could teach him to love sports and watch ESPN

And you could teach the piano to her maybe him

 

What a joy could’ve been to rear one we might share

Who loved us the same, not prefer other’s care 

 

But in swift moment of time was all swept away

I hurt even now as I imagine that day

 

I am sorry for our loss, I wish it never had been

I know you haven’t forgotten what happened back then

 

But I want you realize that there’s coming a day

When in Glory we’ll hear a sweet little voice say,

 

“Welcome home, Mom and Dad, I’ve been waiting for you”

And he’ll say that he loves us, and he’ll hug us both too

 

He is there with our Savior and he wants us to see

That we’ll one day embrace forever, o eternity.

 

We will all hold hands while walking down Celestial Street

And we’ll hear all about Heaven from one we never did meet

 

Oh the pain of his passing will end when we both rub the face

Of this one that we so love up in God’s resting place

 

The empty, void feeling will no longer be seem sad

When our boy who’s gone, calls you, “Mom” and me, “Dad”.

 

 

WE LOVE ALL OUR CHILDREN, BUT HOPED TO LOVE AND BE LOVED BY YOU ALSO

Happy in the Village

While on a month-long trip to Africa, I spied how that the children in the villages of Burkina Faso were some of the most contented I had ever seen. Yet most did not have access to a good education, nice clothing, consistent electricity, or any of the "things" that the developed world relies on for day-to-day satisfaction. As I dwelled on this, I not only thought of the emptiness of the young generation in America, but how that many marriages are based on temporal things, rather than true love. I am glad that my wife, Kimberly, and I have known the kind of relationship that does need all the "stuff" that so many others require for a good life and marriage. I could live an eternity with her and be satisfied just to come home to her each night and sit on the back porch and watch the sun go down. I am truly "Happy in the Village".

 



I Give You My Son

In 1997 an older African man sat next to his son in my sitting room in Abeokuta, Nigeria. He was a man of character and love, and though he had worked hard all of his life, struggled to care for the needs of his children. His son, Segun Babalola, as an elementary student had gone to live with an aunt in Abeokuta, more than 2 hours away from home, and was attending a school nearby. I had met his son along with other boys one day while soulwinning. Segun asked Christ to be his Savior, and had began attending church faithfully. His father came to see me this day to ask me to allow Segun to come and live with me, and to help rear him for the Lord. After sharing his desire with me, and after I willingly and gratefully agreed to do so, he took his young boy by the shoulder and said to me, "I give you my son".

For the next five years I would become like a father to Segun. His father would later go to meet the Lord after his passing. This week, my son, Olusegun Matthew Babalola is marrying a sweet young lady, Tayo Koleosho, who also, grew up in the same church where I pastored in Nigeria, The Solid Rock Independent Baptist Church in Abeokuta. My prayer is that Segun and Tayo will live their lives for Christ. I wrote this poem for Segun on the week of his wedding. I love you, son.

Tribute to Pastor Simon Nyam

"On the Side of a Hill"

My Dad celebrated his 28th Anniversary as pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in Middleburg, Florida, this past Sunday. He has been an inspiration to my life and many hundreds of others. He did not come from a family of preachers, nor did he have a rich Christian pedigree. He, however, learned from the toil of life how to survive the winds of time. I love him and thank God, on this Fathers' Day weekend for my father, Dr. Ken Pledger.