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The Writings of Lonny

04Aug

Iron Goat Trail

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

Sometimes Time Runs Out of Kilter.

I don’t know if the hands on the clock turn around and actually run backwards, or if time really does occasionally run in reverse.

But I do know that once in a while memories become as real as Mama’s apple wood switch and the sting is as sharp as new open heel blisters from wearing hand-me-down boots.

03Jun

My Three Sons

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

I wrote this prayer this morning when I had occasion to be especially fond of and thankful for my son David.

Thank you for a sun to shine
Thank you for a son that’s mine
Thank you for your son that came
The message of love to proclaim
Thank you lord for my sons three
Thank you for your love for me

24May

Voice of Bliss - Part 1

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

I am the morning star.
My voice is thunder and my words are lightning.
They herald the coming of new rain.
They proclaim now it is time to prepare
your buckets to be filled to overflowing.
Soon you will see every branch still abiding in the vine spring forth with new leaves and cunning fruit.

It is fruit that I desire.

03May

Regarding My Healing

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

I have been waiting to give the conclusion of the matter for all who prayed for my healing.  I wanted to allow enough time to make certain there was no relapse.  There isn't. My healing was timely and complete.  It was actually twofold because my wife Charlene was also ill with the same infection and we both received full healing after receiving gentou and prayers from so many of you. 

I am so thankful to the Lord Jesus Christ and the Father and love them so much as do I all of you my brothers and sisters.  Since the healing God has been so active in my life in a new and at an unknown before level.  Our God is an awesome God of so many magnitudes.  Thanks to all of you as well.  I will post this message as a comment to the latest blog as well for those who may miss reading it here.

28Apr

A Boy and a Train

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

I don't know the date, but I was seven or eight
When we moved from the Midwest plains
To the Cascade Range, where the foothills boast
Tall mountains, like Shuksan.

We found a home out there, amidst fresh mountain air,
Where pine forests never end,
In a western land, with a vista grand,
Where the clouds and the mountains blend.

Its deceptive skies fill your mind with lies.
The horizon seems to flow.
Your eyes can't tell the ocean's swell
From the clouds, or the mountain snow.

08Apr

If The World Had No More Poets

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

If the world had no more poets
There’s so much we wouldn’t know
About lands beyond the rainbow
Places we could never go
Secrets hidden in the darkness
Treasure buried in a cache
Places only poets wander
Sipping nectar from their casks.
If we didn’t have song writers
Who would teach us how to feel?
Or to sing, “Walk on, walk on…”

30Nov

The End of the Rainbow

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

There’s a land called “End of the Rainbow,” at the end of every day,
Where dreamers with their fantasies hold reality at bay.

Dreams rule at the end of the rainbow in that wonderful land of Nod.
And things come true we could never do where reality rules like God.

I have longed for the end of the rainbow and the treasure buried there,
Where folks never rue the things they do and magic fills the air.

I’ve been to the end of the rainbow and tasted its magic breeze.
I have bathed there in its healing wells, cured heartaches and disease

29Nov

Images of Swings

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

When I'm all alone in my reverie, I often still recall The things we children did for fun, and my favorite of them all. I picture life the way it was in frames my memory brings And in my fondest visions I have Images Of Swings. The swing set in the schoolyard where I often spent recess-- The great large swings down at the park (these were the very best)-- And my most joyful memory was the summer or the spring A man mom hired to do some chores built us a back yard swing.

23Nov

Country Angel Band (song)

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

[chorus]
I can hardly wait for Heaven
Where I want to hear God play
Country music on His guitar
Like the songs I love today
And I know God plays in Heaven
He’s a country music man
For I’ve heard that He’s the leader
Of a country angel band

10Nov

Little Lonny Me-Oh-My

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

Little Lonny Me-Oh-My
Wrote songs that made the girls all cry
And when his songs began to play
It made them dance their tears away

Little Lonny My-Oh-Me
Took all their tears and made a sea

With words from songs he built a boat
That carried all his dreams afloat

Aboard his lyric boat for years
He sailed upon this sea of tears
And while at sea more songs he wrote
This salty captain in his boat
 

08Nov

The Little Christmas Tree

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

Bruce the Spruce was a Christmas tree; he lived on Christmas Farm. Each night he dreamed that he could bring cheer into someones home.

He stretched his branches every day and squeezed his needles tight, so he could be a perfect tree
for holding Christmas lights.

Every year at Christmas time Bruce did as he was taught. He showed all of his Christmas charm,
hoping he would be bought.

The people came from miles around to buy their Christmas Trees. They pulled and tugged at branches and gave the twigs a squeeze.

They looked for trees just the right size, with needles that would stay, trees that gave a Christmas smell
to brighten Christmas day.

05Nov

Night Mystery

Posted in Readings From The Seven Shepherds | The Writings of Lonny

Flying on silent wings and  sightless eyes, with bat-like stealth exploring  evening skies, hidden high upon a branch of leafy twigs, she fastens to a tree her silver eggs.

Shielded  from  the elements of nature she thus protects new life, still immature.

Hatched in warm sunlight these will give new birth to wingless life, which  crawls upon the earth.

Mere worms, likened to men, they take their feed,  devouring every leaf, so like man’s greed.

They spin upon the tree, from silken cloths, large paper-like cocoons, these larval moths.

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