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Tuesday, October 4, 2022

RANSON BOOKER'S FIGHT

 

Ranson Booker was a mean old cuss
His reputation? He liked to fight
His opponent? It really didn’t matter
Always ready, morning, noon, or night

Rough and tumble is what he did best
Bite off an ear or gouge out an eye
A kick in the groin for good measure
More than once his opponent had died

From miles around, they came to fight him
He boasted he had never been beat
No matter big or small or two at a time
He fought in rain, snow, cold, or heat

He’d shake their hand, come out swinging
It’d be over in no time at all
He would get a big grin on his face
As he would watch his opponent fall

But then one day he finally met his match
Drunk, he picked on the wrong man
Off the stage, he had just got into town
He was quiet, had a Bible in his hand

The man said, “Mister, I’m not afraid of you”
“Because I have the Lord on my side”
“But if you think that we have to fight”
“Then your desire will not be denied”

“Mister, Now I will tell you a little secret”
“With my Lord, I’ve never been whipped”
“He has someone assigned to keep me safe”
“He’s beside me during any hardship’

Ranson reared back his head and roared
At the man before him, he took a swing
What happened next was told for years
How Ranson’s whipping was a terrible thing

Ranson’s swing in mid-air was blocked
And a giant fist smashed into his face
From the floor, he glanced at his opponent
What he saw brought fear to his face

A being towering over him was waiting
Dressed in white, he stood eight feet tall
It looked down at Ranson with contempt
Waiting for Ranson to stand, answer the call

With a roar, he was back on his feet
With every swing, his opponent wasn’t there
For some reason, his punches didn’t land
He finally gave, beaten, in total despair

The man approached and spoke to him
“Mister, you did well, better than most”
“Who you just fought was my guardian angel”
“His name is Micajah, a heavenly host”

“Mister, I don’t know why you like to fight”
“I’m figuring it is all because of pride”
“Something tells me that you’ve killed before”
“Will you tell me how many have died?”

Ranson looked at him, tears in his eyes
“Mister,” he said, “tell me who you are”
“All I know is how to fight mean and dirty”
“It is all I’ve ever known how to do so far”

The man looked him square in the eye
Said, “God sent me here just for you”
“He told me to tell you that He loves you”
“That He has something for you to do”

Ranson stood there with tears in his eyes
“Tell me about this God that you know”
“All my life I have had to continually fight”
“And in return, I have nothing to show”

The man shared with Ranson the gospel
Micajah stood watch, always by his side
A mighty battle inside Ranson was raging
Between Satan and the one crucified

On his knees, Ranson cried out to God
Asked Him to please forgive his sins
A wave of love completely engulfed him
He was blood cleansed, without, within

Ranson bowed his head and softly spoke
“That was the hardest fight of my life”
The man spoke, “Mister, you had to win it”
“Or else your life would be continuous strife”

Ranson spoke, My reputation? What do I do?
There are men always looking for a fight”
“Do I tuck my tail? Do I run away?”
“Please tell me!  I want to do what is right”

“Mister,” the man said, “you’ve no need”
“You don’t ever have to fight again”
“You have been assigned a guardian angel”
“For you, he will always battle and win”


“When someone challenges you, takes a swing”
“Just remember your life in the past”
“No longer must you retaliate, defend yourself”
“For God will come to your rescue, fast”

“You are to tell them about what happened”
“How you fought a fight you couldn’t win”
“How a tussle with an angel brought you”
“The peace you now have now deep within”

“I am not saying that it’s going to be easy”
“Satan will send many wanting to test you”
“You must turn your cheek, absorb the blow”
“Allow the love of God to be a visible clue”

“Others will see how you have been changed”
“They will ask questions, want to understand”
“Share how that trying to whip a guardian angel”
“Helped you to become a better man”

Monday, October 3, 2022

THE LAST MOVE

 

Every time that I move
I say it’s the last time
It’s a task that I dread
I am not in my prime

First, you must pack it
And then label each box
Make sure that your dishes
Aren’t mistaken for socks

The new home must be cleaned
Your old one! it will too
Where you get your energy
You really have no clue

Furniture is not getting lighter
Which my back can attest
When carrying down a stairs
I try to do my best

I know something will get lost
Something else will get broken
Get tired, tempers will flare
Regret things hastily spoken

Then comes putting it away
There’s not enough room
If you get upset, go outside
Seeking solace in your gloom

Then comes cleanup time
Piles of boxes, packing galore
Only thing comes to my mind
Is what I said before

I have moved my last time
My next move? In a box
It will be my eternal casket
One not labeled socks