Remember to Number

It’s strange that we often remember
so much that we ought to forget;
and forget what we should have remembered,
that’s one reason we worry and fret.

Remembering the hurts other give us
won’t make our lives happy and sweet.
In fact, it will be just the opposite,
and we’ll burden the folks that we meet.

Forgetting the kind deeds of others,
believe me, is fully as bad;
for this is how favors quit coming;
it’s selfishness, which is so sad.

Remembering each good we engage in
and wanting our neighbors to see;
forgetting how often we’ve failed them—
what blind hypocrites we can be!

There’s one thing I’ve recently noted—
it’s funerals—where truth we must face;
we may promise to make worthwhile changes,
yet how quickly these thoughts we erase.

Oh, teach us, dear Lord, then, to number
our days—yes, they really are few;
and open our hearts to Thy wisdom,
securing our “Well done” from You!

fpn/79

(Reposted from August 6, 2017. Alternate title: Remembering and Forgetting)



Picture: depositphotos.com #104026080, standard license

Profuse Apologies

A little humour from Frank after he and Eva forgot to celebrate their youngest child's birthday during her last year of high school. This poem was given personally to Joyce the next day, complete with this hand-drawn tear-filled face (from a time long before emoticons were invented). 

We are so sorry we forgot

to celebrate with “honey-pot”

her happy birthday for this year;

we love her lots—see here, see here!

But we have each passed one you know,

and as we do, we older grow;

life gets involved as we decline,

in strength and mem’ry, yet we shine

with gobs of love for every one—

for Joycie dear and for each son;

by in-law daughters, we’re so blessed,

and the grandkids, they’re the best!

But, come to think of it, you now

are nineteen, memory sharp, and how!

We wonder though, perhaps did you

chance to forget your birthday too?

fpn/Dec.1976

Remembering and Forgetting

It’s strange that we often remember
so much that we ought to forget;
and forget what we should have remembered,
that’s one reason we worry and fret.

Remembering the hurts other give us
won’t make our lives happy and sweet.
In fact, it will be just the opposite,
and we’ll burden the folks that we meet.

Forgetting the kind deeds of others,
believe me, is fully as bad;
for this is how favors quit coming;
it’s selfishness, which is so sad.

Remembering each good we engage in
and wanting our neighbors to see;
forgetting how often we’ve failed them—
what blind hypocrites we can be!

There’s one thing I’ve recently noted—
it’s funerals—where truth we must face;
we may promise to make worthwhile changes,
yet how quickly these thoughts we erase.

Oh, teach us, dear Lord, then, to number
our days—yes, they really are few;
and open our hearts to Thy wisdom,
securing our “Well done” from You!

fpn/79

Picture: depositphotos.com #104026080, standard license

The Sublime Artistry

Of all the skills and aptitudes

that grace the modern scene,
there's one that's being overlooked;
we dare not call it mean.
Quite frankly, it's most difficult,
but few e'er qualify;
so many fail to see its worth
until the day they die.

The artist's brush, the lyric's voice,
the vibrant symphony,
may seem at times to be divine
and touch infinity.
Let earthly grandeur, strength and skill
be e'er so great, and yet
one artistry excels them all:
forgive, and then forget.

There's much injustice in this world
and possibly you've known
the weight of accusations which
some other one should own.
But through some twist or quirk of fate
they fell upon your head;
your shame so great, you almost felt
'twere better to be dead.

Maturity in God's dear child
comes only with the years.
Life's trials can lead to solid joy
even in the midst of tears.
We walk by faith and not by sight;
our God can never fail.
It's never easy, for our foe
will tempt, oppose, assail.

He works through people, even friends
who sometimes prove untrue.
That's when it hurts—when we're despised
by those whom once we knew.
Now God in time will vindicate,
and some, with deep regret,
will seek our pardon; can we then
forgive, and yes, forget?

But some will never come around,
although they know they're wrong.
Now here's the test of Christian grace:
shall these disrupt our song?
"Forgive them, Father," so Christ prayed;
He cancelled all our debt.
Let's do the same, in Jesus' name:
forgive, and then forget.

fpn/undated

Published as poem #24 in Contemporary Psalms
Picture: depositphotos.com #24975073, standard license