Remember That We Love You

It isn't easy to watch a parent slip away emotionally or mentally with dementia or some other  debilitating illness such as alzheimer's. It must be doubly hard to be the parent who cannot seem to remember their childrens names, their age, or a million other important details from their lives.

Over the past year or so, I have watched my mom in law go through the early stages of dementia that affect so many elderly. She has taken it like a trooper. I wrote her this poem to celebrate her 87th birthday and so that she might be reminded again that those around her have an unceasing love for her. I also wrote it for all the seniors who struggle day by day to remember their families and the joys of being a spouse, a parent, and a grandparent. 

God blesed me with two of the greatest in laws that a man could have when I married my sweet wife, Kim. Jerri and Jack Maddox have treated me like one of their own from the very day I met them. 

You've Made Me Better

A wife/husband should strive to make their spouse a better person for being united in matrimony. I knew that Kim (Maddox) Pledger would make me a better individual from the first time I met her. I was to meet her and go on our first date in Panama City in late 2010, when she notified me that our date would need to be delayed slightly due to her commitment to sing at the funeral of her pastor's mother inlaw. I showed up at the graveside, watched her bless the hearts of those grieving Afterwards we were off to our first date. Since that day and now after 9 years of marriage, I know she was made for me as well as I for her. She completes me and helps me in areas where I have  am weak. I could not do all that I do without her. She is my inspiration. Thank you, Kim for "making me better"

"Not Silent"

I had the privilege in June of 2020 to travel to the place of my parent's salvation and my Dad's call to preach in Cedar Junction, Kansas. My attempt to take pictures and interview some of the members of his former church were slightly disappointed when I discovered that not only was the church no longer in existence, but that the little building had been burned to ashes sometime in the early 70's. All that remained was a bell that had hung in it's modest steeple. The bell had been preserved and now rang each Sunday from another Baptist church just miles away in Desoto, Kansas. The bell is emblematic of the life of my father and his ministry in the Gospel. He has weathered life's storms these 53 years since the days of his soul being saved and his being called to preach. He continues to ring the Bell of the Gospel beckoning others to come to Jesus. I wrote this poem on my journey back to Florida from Kansas City and presented it to my Dad on the 34th year of his pastorate at Calvary Baptist Church in Middleburg, Florida. 

It Doesn't Seem Right

In 2003, our church family at Calvary was shocked with the news of losing one of our finest men and soulwinners, Brother Darren McWhorter. He and his wife served as bus workers and in our childrens' ministry. Darren was a great husband and loving father to three young kids. He was taken suddenly from us in an early morning vehicle accident. I wrote this poem in his honor and read it at his funeral. I will forever remember his love for the gospel, and how God used his life to touch so many in Clay Hill area through the Bus Ministry. 

In Honor of Pastor Louis Doan of the Faith Baptist Church, Green Cove Springs, Florida

Eleven years ago I went with a large group from Calvary to preach for two weeks in Haiti and the Dominican Republic. For the most past during the first week, the majority of our team stayed in the capitol city of Port au Prince, while myself and Brother Louis Doan went several hours north over rugged terrain to minister in the town of Hinche and other villages. We didn't stay in very comfortable circumstances, but Brother Doan brought levity and ease to our trip through his humor and overall good spirit. I learned from this experience that my friend had a certain grace that I needed. I grew to love him in his life and later in his death. He died last week after a bout with brain cancer. He was a gracious father and husband, as well as a friend to those labored in the work of God. I saw him in the hospital the night before his last surgery. The same grace that he showed in a primitive area of Haiti, he also showed in the final days of his life. May God help all of us to have this grace to live our lives until we lay down our robes at Jesus' feet. 

 

Showing a Gospel Film on a Football Field

Pastor Doan being funny sitting in a police wagon

Preaching in a Prison in Hinche

Pastor Doan the week before he passed into heaven

Brother Louis Doan preaching in the open air

Yuletide Grief Noone Knows

I woke up this morning thinking about an annual tradition my family has celebrated for many years. I have loved to go around my neighborhood, to the homeless and shut-ins to sing Christmas Carols every Christmas Eve. We take homemade cookies and cheer and spend an hour or two showing up unannounced at the doorsteps of unsuspecting people.

Church members have gone with us. Both of our parents have gone with us, as well as each of our kids and my sister. I love doing it if for no other reason than to see the reaction of people when they answer their doors and we begin to sing. However, I love to do this as well because I know that people are often lonely and depressed during the holidays. We sing to people who have buried their spouses or gone through great trials the previous year. I search these people out particularly  and show up for even 10 or 15 minutes in the dark hours of their lives to attempt to lift their burden. I wrote this poem for these. I wrote it for those who have grief none knows but Jesus.

She Saved It In Her Heart

I had the blessing of going to lunch today with my mother. She turns 75 years old tomorrow. She has loved me for all the days of my life. She invested into my life when I was too young to appreciate her late nights and weary days. I am not certain if I have always lived up to her expectations and hopes for me, but I have always desired to make her and my father pleased with my life and choices. I am not all I wish I was for the Lord, but what I am, I owe to parents. Happy 75th, Mom!!!