Heroes don’t wear capes that fly, They don’t soar through a painted sky. No masks to hide, no flashy suits Just dog tags clinking, combat boots.
They walk through dust, through fire and rain, Shouldering silence, bearing pain. With steady hearts and watchful eyes, They fight for peace beneath the skies.
No spotlight finds them in the fray, Yet still they rise, day after day. For love of country, kin, and right, They stand as shields through darkest night.
So if you seek a hero true, Look not to myths of red and blue But to the ones who serve and stand With honor etched in calloused hands.
No capes, no fame, no scripted lines Just courage lived a thousand times.
Reason falters when emotions dance, And truth is dulled by the thirst of chance. We join the wild crowd, swept along For in the chaos, we feel we belong.
A cause embraced, no matter the cost, Feeds the ego, though truth is lost. It lifts our minds, ignites our pride, While truth stands quiet, pushed aside.
But still, a whisper calls us near: “Be still, and let your soul draw clear.” For when the heart finds holy peace, The noise of self and strife will cease.
Calm your soul, and still your mind The light of Truth you soon will find. Hold fast to Jesus, pure and bright, And walk forever in His light.
Search where you may with all your might, To find a glimpse of God’s pure Light. Climb the mountains, scan the skies, Seek through tears and heartfelt cries.
But know, O soul, man’s view is small, Earth-bound eyes can’t see it all. We chase through reason, thought, and lore, Yet miss the truth we’re longing for.
For light divine, and wisdom deep, Are not in places shadows sleep. True revelation, clear and bright, Comes not by sight—but Spirit’s light.
The Word of God, alive and true, Will open hearts and minds anew. Not by flesh nor clever mind, But by His Spirit, truth we find.
So bow your heart, and seek His face, Not in the stars, but in His grace. Search not alone—His Word will guide, And with His Spirit, walk beside.
For His Honor and Glory MarkWaldrop
1Co 2:14 The person without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God but considers them foolishness, and cannot understand them because they are discerned only through the Spirit.
“How strange,” said the Boy, “that the grass still stands, After winds tore the trees and scattered the lands.” He looked all around at the broken and torn, At the silence that followed the fury and storm.
“Sometimes being soft is strong,” said the Hare, His whiskers still wet from the rain-swept air. “The grass doesn’t fight, doesn’t rise up tall— It bends with the wind and survives it all.”
“The oak may boast of its height and might, But it snapped in the face of the storm last night. The grass just whispered and laid down low, Then rose again when the winds let go.”
The Boy sat quiet, letting it sink in— That strength isn’t always loud or within The hardest of things or the boldest of cries— But sometimes in softness, true courage lies.
And there in the hush of the morning light, He saw that the meek had won the fight. For when the storm has had its say, It’s the gentle things that find their way.
Heal me, Lord, if it is Your will, Speak to the storm and make it still. Touch this pain with mercy’s hand, Lift me up so I might stand.
But if not, if healing waits, If I must walk through shadowed gates, Then hold me close and guide me through For even then, I’ll cling to You.
I will not curse the thorn or fire, Nor trade Your love for vain desire. Though valleys stretch and skies grow dim, My song will rise, my trust in Him.
For You are God on peaks so high, And You are near when low I lie. So heal me, Lord—but if You will not, I’ll walk with You through every lot.
Through darkest nights, my soul is still I love You, Lord, and I always will.
I don’t do things as good as I used to, The days move different, the lines are blurred. I don’t hear the whispers like once I could, And faces fade more than they should.
I don’t see the world with the same clear light, The colors dim, the print’s too tight. My memory plays a game of hide, And sometimes leaves me mystified.
I walk much slower than I did before, And pause at every creaky floor. I take more breaks and rest more often, But in those pauses, my soul has softened.
I’m slower now at most everything At tying shoes or answering rings. But though my hands may tremble some, My heart is steady, my race still run.
And that’s okay, I’m not dismayed, For in the quiet, I’ve often prayed. And found a peace I never knew— I’m closer to God than I ever grew.
So let the years fall soft and slow, There’s grace in letting the old ways go. For though I don’t do all I used to do, I’m held by love that’s ever true.
2Co 4:16 The outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.
It doesn’t rain unless there’s a storm, The sky must darken, the winds transform. Yet in the turmoil, drops descend, To cleanse, to heal, and hearts to mend.
The thunder rolls, the night may cry, But grace falls gently from the sky. For rain, though born in tempest’s roar, Brings life to roots and strength to soar.
Showers of blessing, strangely disguised, Come wrapped in trials we never prized. Yet through the pain and bitter strife, They pour down hope and nourish life.
And when the storm has passed us by, A hush will settle on the sky. The sun breaks through, the world made new— And peace will come, serene and true.
So let the clouds roll overhead, Let faith be stronger than our dread. For after storms, God’s love is shown, And we are never left alone.
Psa 30:5 weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
The Down and Out and the Up and Out Inspired by Dad’s Words
My dad always said, with a squint in his eye, “There’s the down and out, and the up and out, guy.” Some have no shelter, no shoes on their feet, Worn by the world and lost on the street.
But others wear suits with a polished disguise, Yet emptiness hides behind well-dressed lies. They dine at fine tables, they travel in style, But deep in their soul, they’ve been lost for a while.
One cries for bread, the other for peace, Both bound by a hunger that will not cease. For riches or rags, the truth still remains— A heart without hope bears invisible chains.
So reach for the fallen, and lift up the proud, Share light with the lowly and speak love out loud. For whether you’re down or you’re climbing about, We all need grace to find our way out.
