| Pastors |
| When the hammer hit his thumb real hard, |
| His blood, like mine, was red. |
| When his little child came running out, |
| "I love you," is what he said. |
| When the bills were paid, he sighed relief. |
| And, I noticed his tears when he saw my grief. |
| Say, a pastor's just a regular man |
| Who lives for God and takes a stand. |
| His kids talk back, on occasion. |
| His dear wife gets the blues. |
| He doesn't read minds or hear voices. |
| Sometimes, he's alarmed at the news. |
| He prays about things too big for him |
| And believes an impossible dream. |
| In your hospital gown, when the chips are down, |
| He's the first one on the scene. |
| There are days when he gets discouraged. |
| And, it might help a little bit more |
| If we'd realize that he's just a guy |
| With his eyes on a distant shore ... |
| Just flesh and bone, and heartache, |
| An appointment with father time; |
| Knees a bit more callused |
| Than those of yours or mine. |
| I'd like to think I helped a bit, |
| Carried my side of the load, |
| That we walked a piece toward Heaven |
| As seeds of love were sown ... |
| That whoever gets to Heaven first |
| Will stand, watching in Heaven's door, |
| To welcome the other to Heaven. 'Cause, |
| That's what real friends are for! |
| © 2004 by Joan Clifton Costner |
| Other poems by Joan Clifton Costner A large collection of poems, submitted by Joan Clifton Costner |
| The Poem Library Contents Page |