It's Sunday and I thought something a little more appropriate would be in order. The beliefs of America are deep. Our need to grasp their conviction and depth of character is as appropriate today as yesterday. I hope you
enjoy.
The Old Corner Post
My memory of our old farm stays with me still,
Running through the fields and topping every hill.
Summer days filled with pure joy and youthful fun,
Learning life’s lessons as each new day had begun.
I remember my dad’s stories that he instinctively shared,
The deeply rooted foundations instilled because he cared.
The lessons handed down from our generation gone past,
The rock hard lessons with images you draw on to last.
The one lesson that serves me well its image I remember best,
It was about my great grandfather when he was put to the test.
It has to do with the old corner post, the one he set so deep,
Before the barn was built and only a shack they had to sleep.
He struggled with his faith he wavered back and forth, to and fro,
One time he’s off to heaven then it was the other place he’d surly go.
Great grandma had told him time after time you better get it straight,
For when your life is over it’s not a time to wonder or having this debate.
So he was passing by his next door neighbor one sunny fruitful day,
And he noticed a big old scraggly tree standing in his neighbor’s way.
He went up to his neighbor to ask him about the lonely scraggly old tree,
He said “ho my friend about that tree, it seems a poor place for it to me”.
His neighbor only smiled and turned warmly to the old tree and gazed,
This tree allows me to turn my head up to heaven and offer up my praise.
You see that steel spike that is sticking out of the side of that old tree,
I drove it in there on purpose when I was of the age of thirty-three.
I believed and started to understand the good book, I read it every day,
I just couldn’t settle my destination, I couldn’t keep it in my mind to stay.
Until I read the verse, in His hands I am secure, nothing could pull me free,
I finally understood so I drove the nail into that spot, representing my security.
As great grandfather headed home contemplating all he had heard,
He suddenly understood it by those verses that came from the word.
It became a settled thing he had found the truth a great peace and rest,
He also would find something he could turn to help pass life’s wavering test.
It came to him on the way home his anchor would be a corner post,
It would be a post standing very deep, his security it would host.
He stopped by a grove of locust examining every large tree,
He finally found the one he wanted it was straight and limb free.
He went on home and gathered his ax not a word did he say,
Great grandma saw him passing by, ax in hand hurrying on his way
He came to the grove and went to the work of falling that big old tree,
With time to think and ponder all things, he spiritually began to see.
After a while the cutting all done he comes slowly up the road
His back all haunched carrying and dragging a tremendous load.
Great grandma ran to him, what was the matter, she had to see,
Stopping he said prayerfully, “I am not the First to carry a tree.”
The sweat was dripping as he smiled and then passed on by,
A believer’s flood of assurance passed over her, she began to cry.
She quickly caught up to him and slowly walked by his loving side,
That would be the pattern for every day, she glowed with loving pride.
As they continued up the road he labored with every step,
Thinking to himself that there are promises that must be kept.
She headed to her duties of dusting and cleaning every pot,
He labored on to reach his destination and select the very spot.
He took his post and shaved it, then treated it with oil,
He dug his hole very deep with grateful labor and toil.
He set the post to the bottom and lined it fast with stone,
He covered it with dirt he pressed, the post stood up alone.
When his work was finished he backed up and bowed his head,
If I ever doubt my destination I’ll waver not, but look at the post instead.
For in His hands I am eternally secure nothing can snatch me out,
That’s what this post reminds me of so I don’t waste time in doubt.
With that he took out his knife and began to carve on a spot so dear,
He set the tone for his posterity by cutting in his name, day and year.
As the story goes he used this post to instruct his very first son,
No matter where you go in life there must be a point from where it begun.
And as my father instructed me with words that were so full and good,
For all the generations past they were instructed by this post of wood.
There has to be a foundation in life, a point from which to go out and in.
This old corner post has always spiritually been the place where we begin.
I can remember my father taking me by the hand and opening up my sight,
And by that old corner post is where he showed me the Truth and the Light.
He told me the story of great grandfather and how this corner post come to be,
He showed me all the names and dates and even the spot waiting there for me.
He led me to the Truth that day and helped me carve the date and name,
And I look forward soon one day with my son that I will do the same.
I have finally come home to our farm and here is where I plan to stay,
To watch my family grow tall and strong bonded together in work and play.
My father is gone now and rejoices with those that are listed on the post,
All the generations gathering together with the heavenly host.
While here on this land we share our story and with the time make the most,
For one day we all will gather around the One and only True Corner Post.
By The Old Farmer
Sleep tight, for all is well down on the
farm.
The Old Farmer
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