My Mother's Dreams

by Francine Coleman Larson

I wonder what her dreams were

As she lay beneath the trees;

With her whole life sprawled before her,

She gazed dreamily.

Was she feeling modern

In her high heels and pearls?

Did she ever think she would

Have three little girls?

I wonder what her plans were

When she thought about her life.

Did she want to travel abroad

Or be more than a loving wife?

Maybe she wanted to be a pilot

And soar through the sky.

Or be a research scientist

And always be asking "why?"

Did she know that someday

We would explore space?

Or that a war and depression

Our country would someday face?

She couldn't know that time would march

And youth would quickly flee,

Passing on her hope and wildest dreams

To another generation through me.


Memorial Day

By Irene Chambers


This is a day,

Dedicated to the ones so brave,

Who gave their life,

So our freedom they could save.


It is a day,

To honor the Navy and Army,

All branches of the service,

Who fought on land and sea.


It is a day to place flowers,

And to say a prayer,

And to say God bless you,

And thank the ones sleeping there.


I Remember My Mother

By Irene Clayton Chambers


I remember my mother,

As the years go swiftly passing by,

And sometimes those memories

Are so precious, they make me cry.


Oh, yes I can remember,

As I look back over the years,

And now as I grow older,

I can understand her heartaches and tears.


She was the first to tell me of Jesus,

As a child at her knee,

And so many other things,

She always had time for me.


One day I asked mama about death,

And what made people die,

She told me it was God's will,

They would have a better home in the sky.


She told me death was like the flowers,

That we planted in the spring,

And if we lived for Jesus,

What happiness after death it would bring.


She said it was so lonesome,

After a loved one is gone,

And each time a soul is planted,

It makes Heaven closer to home.


It seems now that I can see,

Her hands so wrinkled and old,

The hands that made a Christian home,

And heart made of purest gold.

Love for My Lord

Written by Irene Chambers in Memory of Wiley Nail


We went to church one Sunday,

The children and I,

For it was the Lord's Day

And our work was laid by.


It was a day like the others

No different from the rest,

Just thanking the Lord

For all that we had been blessed.


The church was all filled,

Everyone in place,

I looked across the aisle,

And saw a man, old, and wrinkles on his face.


When the singing was finished,

The preacher rose to begin his talk,

I saw this old man stand up,

He was so feeble he could hardly walk.


"I just want to say a few words,

I won’t take up much of your time,

I have to say a few words for my Lord,

And the love I have in this heart of mine"


"I want to thank the Lord,

For all He has done for me,

My hearing is almost gone now,

And I can hardly see."


"I'm old and very feeble,

Getting on well in my years,

I still love my Savior,

And his voice was close to tears."


"Being old and feeble,

Has not changed my love,

For my Precious Lord,

Has made me a home up above."


I saw he was getting tired,

His voice was getting very weak,

He said, "I won’t take no more time, but I just had to speak"


He went back to his seat,

Just across the aisle,

And as he sat down,

On his face there was a smile.


Yes, he loved his Lord very much,

And I know he would carry on,

With what little he could do,

Until the Lord called him home.


This is what Rev. Wiley Nail said one Sunday morning in Refuge Church back in 1972; Ben Frank Atkins would go by and pick him up and bring him to church.



Raymond Gone Home

In Memory of Raymond Phillips


I was thinking today about a friend

One I used to know

This friend has now gone to Heaven

He left about two years ago.


He's gone to be with Jesus

The One he loved best of all

I'd like to tell a little about Raymond

Up until he got his call.


The first time I saw him

I don't guess I'll ever forget

It was in church one Sunday

And now I'm so glad we met.


He was always a little slow

And he was often shy,

When he saw you he would wave

Throw up his hand and say "hi".


Raymond never read a book

He could never drive a car

But the things he knew,

He was a lot better than we are.


He didn't have any education

He couldn't even write his name,

He worked hard all his life,

He had no fortune or fame.


Raymond couldn't even sing

But he sure knew how to pray,

He always carried a little harp

And he knew how to play.


In church he would play for us

The song "Amazing Grace",

And when he had finished,

The tears were falling down my face.


He could also play,

"Sweet By and By"

As you listened to him,

You couldn't help but cry.


It wasn't long after that,

The family moved away,

And Raymond couldn't be with us

In church on the Lord's Day.


Raymond couldn't come back

To church and friends he had known,

He couldn't adjust to new places and faces

And now Raymond has gone home.


They found him one morning

He was lying dead on the floor,

His worries and cares were over,

He will be with Jesus ever more.


By:  Irene Chambers


Oh, the days are ever sunny

When I run to meet my love...

I hold her hand so tiny, in it's tiny, tiny glove,

Oh, am I ever smitten...

I love her more than anything

My love she is a kitten

And my heart a ball of string...

Mary Ann Atkisson Lee




I have to live with myself, and so

I want to be fit for myself to know

I want to be able as days go by, 

Always to look myself straight in the eye

I don't want to stand with the setting sun

And hate myself for the things I've done 

I don't want to dress up myself in sham...


I want to go out with my head erect,

I want to deserve all men's respect

But here in the struggle for fame and pelf

I want to be able to like myself

I don't want to look at myself and know

That Im bluster and bluff and empty show...


I never can hide myself from me

I see what others may never see

I know what others may never know

I never can fool myself, and so

Whatever happens, I want to be

Self-respecting and conscience free...


Edgar A. Guest


Submitted by Mary Ann Atkisson Lee





(For Childhood Disorders)

My Daddy's cure for A.D.D (Attention Deficit Disorder)

Were the lower limbs from a hickory tree

His wisdom, then, he'd demonstrate,

Helped me, a lot, to concentrate.


For hypertension, when I couldn't be still,

I hoed tomatoes on the hill.

These cures would probably work today,

Assign more jobs with far less pay.


When antisocial, Mae and I,

We'd fight a while and scrap and cry.

Dad had the cure for both of us,

No longer, now, a wish to fuss.

- Edward Hall 3/10/2000

Edward Hall and his sister Bertha Mae Hall Smith were the children of Willis and Alma Taylor Hall






"Song of Myself" Verse 1 by Virginia Mae Schmitt

Virginia Mae read the poem’s first verse and set the tone for the entire project. The poem reads: "I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin," and here she is—almost 97 years old—embodying every syllable of those words. Nobody listening to her, or watching her, should ever ask, "Why isn't a thirty-seven year old man reading this?"

My Hero


The stands are full

Cheers resound,

Men winning games

Hero's all around!


Stadiums filled

Crowds everywhere,

Fans galore,

But is anyone aware?


Many years ago,

Beaten and betrayed,

Our Lord walked to Calvary

Alone but not afraid!


Crowds cheered,

Crucify Him they screamed,

Surrounded by dogs,

Ugly and mean.


No one is cheering,

But Angels stand by,

As He walks on,

No friend by His side.


Disciples fled,

Fears abound,

Left alone

He fell to the ground!


They beat Him and cussed,

Tore out His beard,

Whipped His back

But He never feared!


He had a purpose,

He had a plan,

He was marching to Calvary

But did anyone understand?


We have modern day hero's,

And men off to war,

But no one surpasses,

What Jesus did before!


Lord, you're My Hero,

You died in My place,

You bore all my sins,

How I long to see Your Face!


They may not have known,

What You're all about,

But I sing my Praises

and in my Heart, I do shout!


Glory to God,

That You came to this earth,

Gave us New Life,

And gave Me New Birth.


You are the Hero,

Deserving Our Praise,

All glory and Honor

To the Ancient of Days!


Let them sing songs,

And worship their stars,

Let the crowds cheer,

But Jesus, I know who you are!


So many lost,

So much distress,

Lord open their hearts,

Let them find peace and rest!


The Bars are full,

Hearts seeking You,

Open their blind eyes,

And let them find what is true!


But No one is worthy,

Nor will ever come close,

To My Hero, Lord Jesus,

I love and Honor You the most!


©Mary Ann Trott