We celebrated a “western weekend” here at St. Mark’s United Methodist Church in Lincoln, Nebraska last weekend. I enjoy cowboy poetry and used a poem by cowboy poet Red Steagall in my sermon called “Riding for the Brand.” While doing my research I came across this Father’s Day poem by Tamara Hillman entitled Dad’s Boots.
I gently held my father’s hand
while sittin’ near his bed,
strokin’ soft the white hair,
now unruly on his head
His boots sat in the corner,
all rough an’ weather-worn,
remindin’ me of all the ways
he taught me without scorn
Just sittin’ at our table
each night when day was thru’,
bowin’ tired an’ weary head
to give our Lord His due
His risin’ every mornin’
b’fore hearin’ rooster’s crow,
gettin’ chores done early,
‘cause he had some fields to sow
Workin’ hard for little,
but always taking pride
in what he could accomplish
for his family an’ his bride
Never speakin’ harshly
but teachin’ just the same
as he showed us with his manner
how to win life’s crucial game
Not complainin’, not unloadin’
the worries he might have
‘bout the weather or the plowin’,
or nursin’ sickly calves
He always took great notice
of doin’ right or wrong,
an’ told us always listen
to the voice of our heart song
He taught to be respectful,
an’ would gently bring to mind
old folks in their agin’,
for he knew someday we’d find―
We too would walk our elder’s path,
an’ as the prophets say,
“Ya reap what you have sown—
now or later, you must pay.”
Those boots brought back old memories,
sittin’ there so still,
as if the man who walked in them
had finally lost his will
But if I know my dad at all,
his spirit will live on
in the lives of all his children
with each an’ every dawn
We’ll start our day like he did
with purpose in each step,
be honest in our dealin’s,
not excusin’ any debt
He leaves us with the knowledge
we can all do somethin’ great
if we live our life for others
till we reach that pearly gate
His boots are lined an’ wrinkled
just like his weathered face,
but he goes today with dignity,
no dishonor, no disgrace…
Dad's Boots Cowboy Poetry
Poetry by Tamara Hillman - Copyright 2006
I imagine there is something each of us resonates with in this poem. I share it with each of you in the true spirit of Father’s Day as you seek to walk in the tracks of your Dad’s Boots.
Stay tuned,
John
Comments
WOW.....Amen John!
I loved the sermon last Sunday and love this too. It seems like the cowboys had it right--honesty, integrity, values, loyalty, respect, and dignity. Good lesson for all of us--tough boots to fill...:-)
Yes both the sermon Last Sunday & this poem are great. Mike
John always impressed with your blogs. You are an inspiring blogger! Keep Up The Great Work. God has blessed with a great talent.
The Waffleman
You hit the nail right on the head John with your sermon last week and the peom says it all.
John, I just listened to last week's sermon since I couldn't be there and it was awesome. And this poem is so special! After my dad died, his cowboy boots and hat were the last things that my mom gave away and they had to be to someone who knew the value!! Thanks for your awesome blogs!
Great sermon, John. My father wasn't a cowboy-and never owned a pair of boots-he was just a poor southern farmer; however he had all the qualities you spoke of in your sermon and ones mentioned in the poem. He died unexpectedly when I was in my early 20's, and I never had the opportunity to tell him how much those qualities had influenced my life.
I always give thanks that you have touched my life. May God continue to bless you and all whose lives you touch.
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