Floors Again!
It never ceases to amaze me how dirty my floors can get. Maybe
the idea of taking off my shoes at the back door might be the best way to
prevent the mess that seems to enter the house every day. However, not sure
just exactly what my dogs would say to being stopped at the door to have their
feet wiped clean every time they go in and out and back. Have a feeling that
would not go over very well—not to mention how difficult it would be to stop
both of them long enough to wipe their feet! Oh well. Mops were invented for
such as this. Even Patty said that she was mopping floors this morning. And she
has to have oxygen just to walk around her house!
Three rooms mopped and then sat down to read some stuff and
talk to oldest child. Read a “poem” on FB posted by Polly McDonald—the vet who
used to run Dry Forks for the longest:
The poet is S. Omar Barker. You can read it or ignore it,
but it pretty well expresses how many a farmer, rancher, or just livestock
owner feels. Then it reminds me of the ones without the freedom—especially those
left behind in the tunnels of Gaza. May God be with them. Can’t adjust the size
of the print, so sorry about that.
Let us be grateful for all blessings. We know from whence
they have come.
Rest well, my friends. You are loved.
A COWBOY’S CHRISTMAS PRAYER
I ain’t much good at prayin’,
and You may not know me, Lord—I ain’t much seen in churches where they preach Thy
Holy Word, But You may have observed me out here on the lonely plains, A lookin’
after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains, Admirin’ Thy great handiwork, the
miracle of grass, Aware of Thy kind spirit in the way it comes to pass That
hired men on horseback and the livestock we tend Can look up at the stars at night
And know we’ve got a Friend.
So here’s ol’ Christmas comin’
on, remindin’ us again of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of
men. A cowboy ain’t no preacher, Lord, but if you’ll hear my prayer, I’ll ask as
good as we have got for men everywhere. Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord, don’t
let no child be cold. Make easy beds for them that’s sick, and them that’s weak
and old. Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after, And
sorta keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.
I’ve seen ol’ cows a starvin’,
and it ain’t no happy sight: Please don’t leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy
good Christmas night—No man, no child, no woman, no critter on four feet—I’ll
do my best to help You find them chuck to eat.
I’m just a sinful cowpoke,
Lord—ain’t got no business prayin’—But still I hope You’ll ketch a word or two
of what I’m sayin’ We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord, I reckon You’ll agree
There ain’t no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain’t free. So one more thing I’ll
ask you, Lord: just help us what You can To save some seeds of freedom for the
future sons of man!
S. Omar Barker
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