Black Ice

My life sometimes I think the best comparison is of that of a car being driven on upon ice, as I grip the steering wheel that controls my life.

 

The wheels are losing traction as I try to navigate my way through this world spinning and fishtailing and tossing me all about.  

 

And it’s my fear that I am going to lose things that are near and dear to me such as life, love and respect. 

And I begin to oversteer.

 

The path of life is straight and narrow, but I am confused do I steer life or to the right as this vehicle that represents me continues to spin out.

 

A crash is inevitable if I don’t figure this out, tires desperately trying to grip ice, and knuckles upon the wheel are turning white.

 

Sorting through what is reality and what’s real life.

What’s solid ground and what’s black ice.

 

As I continue to fight now appear visions of my past life, 

Lord I pray this won’t become a crash scene, or possibly another death site. 

 

I apply the brakes with all my might steering hard with knuckles white, asking God will there ever be an end to this ice.

 

This is how I feel as I walk through life confused how to regain control and to avoid the many obstacles hurting my way.

 

It would be so comforting if this ice would just melt away. 

 

Control was oh so near, but my anxiety and fear once again caused me to oversteer. 

 

Thank you Lord for allowing me to still be here.

 

Just let my tires grip so I can begin to find my way.

 

I wonder if there anybody else who feels their vehicle has run upon ice, who is steering hard and can’t get right.

 

Don’t be afraid to steer onto the freeway of life, run this race and do your best to avoid the black ice. 

—Matt McCargo, South Boston  

 

Maybe My Mail Is Lost Paper

I look for the newspaper in my empty mailbox.

This is a sunny, Summers’ day for a walk.

I think I will walk to the local post office.

I need to read the obituary section.

Maybe my mail is lost paper.

The Postmaster General does know.

 

I look to the empty school playground. 

This is a sunny, Summers’ day to play.

I think those children read books.

I need to quote, “George Herbert wrote in 1651: ‘Whose house is of glass, must not throw stones at another.’”

Maybe my mail is lost paper.

The Postmaster General does know.

 

I look to the empty civic building.

This is sunny, Summers’ day to lounge on a cruise liner.

I think the leaders demand a vacation.

I need my paycheck.

Maybe my mail is lost paper.

The Postmaster General does know. 

 

I look to the empty fruit cart at the market square.

This is a sunny, Summers’ day for a cookout.

I think the fresh produce is not ready.

I need the products to be boxed into shipments.

Maybe my mail is lost paper.

The Postmaster General does know.

 

I look to the empty bench on the outside from the bank.

This is a sunny, Summers’ day for a holiday.

I think the clerks handle the accounts.

I need my bank statement.

Maybe my mail is lost paper.

The Postmaster General does know.

 

I look to the empty package near the post office.

This is a sunny, Summers’ day to go home.

I think those patrons act with condescension.

I need to rest in peace.

Maybe my mail is lost paper.

The Postmaster General does know.

—By Tammy Ligon, Scottsburg 

 

Seek God’s Direction

We all seem to be in a big hurry now. 

But God doesn’t seem in the hurry that we do. 

The Coronovirus is continuing to spread, 

And how to stop it we scramble to pursue. 

 

It seems we need to start being a church

Outside our church walls everyday.

We need to read God’s Word in Micah chapter 6 

And see what our God has to say. 

 

First God tells us we need to act justly.

Mistreatment and hoarding shouldn’t be found.

We shouldn’t be rude or ignore other’s needs. 

Great love for all people should abound. 

 

We need to love mercy and faithfulness, 

And let others this in our daily lives see. 

We should walk humbly with our God

As a follower of His we strive always to be.

 

Is there some way we can help our neighbor

As things around us now don’t look so good?

Let’s seek to find ways to bring others joy as 

We love God and our neighbors as we should. 

—Barbara Stevens , South Boston 

 

Something about Pintos

Remembering as a child, home, mom, dad, little sis and brother, and sometimes grandpa.  

Things were good; children playing or fussing or both. 

Dad coming in from a hard day at work.

Mom in her apron with her hot pot of pintos that had cooked all day along with hot corn bread and butter. Things were good. 

As God provides us with good food and a loving family to share it with. 

—Pat Roberts, South Boston