Tonight I was reminded of a framed print a former boss gave to me that is still in storage –
(I like to live somewhere for at least 3 years before actually hanging art on the walls)
I’m not a big fan of organized religion – I’ve seen too many people get hurt when they put their faith in another’s description of how the Universe works – But tonight, I was thinking of my former boss who resigned his job to care for his wife when she was diagnosed with M.S. – – the boss who didn’t tell anyone until his last day — the boss who drove up to the new job I had started when he was unable to talk me into staying and playing the politics game – –
The boss that brought in the picture and said, “I want you to have this, because you always read it whenever you came to my office and had to wait.”
I don’t know where he is or what he is doing now – It’s been nearly 20 years since last I saw him – I still do not know why I was given such a beautiful piece of art – but I think of it often and always wonder just what I did to deserve such a gift
We often impact others in profound ways that we are unaware of – And I guess, tonight, I’m thinking of the folks who have made such a difference in my life and wonder, do they know? Would they be surprised if I drove for an hour to give them a picture I owned, that they had admired?
The Cowboy’s Prayer
Oh Lord, I’ve never lived where churches grow.
I love creation better as it stood
That day You finished it so long ago
And looked upon Your work and called it good.
I know that others find You in the light
That’s sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I’m no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
Just let me live my life as I’ve begun
And give me work that’s open to the sky;
Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
And I won’t ask a life that’s soft or high.
Let me be easy on the man that’s down;
Let me be square and generous with all.
I’m careless sometimes, Lord, when I’m in town,
But never let ‘em say I’m mean or small!
Make me as big and open as the plains,
As honest as the hawse between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!
Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
You know about the reasons that are hid.
You understand the things that gall and fret;
You know me better than my mother did.
Just keep an eye on all that’s done and said
And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
And guide me on the long, dim, trail ahead
That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.