This Old Girl tried to kill us, a few times, more than three, but wouldn't trade a day with her, for gobs of green money. Forty years she served the line, to keep this Nation Free, Freedom isn't Free, you know, especially for me.
Confession and Challenge
By Arley Steinhour 051611
I never learned to fly alone, I have good reason why,
Every time I had to fly, Jesus drove, so I wouldn't die.
You'd think there'd be no problem there,
Jesus flying me everywhere;
But Jesus never took a lesson, and hazards wouldn't dissipate,
But, He always managed to save the day, before it was too late.
The first time was a Piper cub, in nineteen forty seven,
Pilot went to spin the prop, in seat was naught, but heaven;
I guess he forgot to trim the gas, as it caught at full R P M,
Off we went, across the grass, pilot, bouncing on his, AMEN.
As plane left ground, he bounced, somehow, within,
Took us up, flew round about, for minutes, five or ten.
Another time, years after that, flight from Denver, to LA,
Plane left the ground making ugly sounds, hydraulics wouldn't Play.
Up the valley between two mountains, trees trying to slap the wing,
What thrust we had, was pretty bad, I knew we'd feel deaths sting.
Only moments before impact, hydraulics did then cooperate,
Cleared the trees, and mountain top, with less than 'feet' to calculate.
The worst time Jesus had to work was at thirty three thousand feet,
Ready to descend, plane fell from sky, faster than gravity, Oh, neat!!
People pinned to ceiling, my belt held me close to seat,
San Francisco, coming up fast, again I knew I was dead meat.
But Jesus found the proper switch, and again did save the day,
One Thousand feet from Tara-FIRM, we leveled out, some way.
That be only a few of times that Jesus saved my life, and more,
So many times He saved my life, in planes, or distant shore;
How many times must one be saved, before returning to God on High,
And why does it always take a time, when surely he's going to die??
Survive from death, ten times or more, God would know the count,
This mortal man returned to Him, as if Vengeance were his mount.
Accepting that He died for me, with nails driven through His hands,
Jesus, be his English name, God, and King of Christian Bands.
He makes me feel He died just for me, but that would leave folks out,
And one thing Jesus wouldn't do is leave one lamb on hill, without.
He looks for us, the wayward lambs, with diligence and strength,
When He finds us ready, carries us all that distance length.
Two Thousand years, and far, far, more, He's been saving life,
Physically, and Spiritual, that we be part of Family, called Wife.
Some say that I do weary them, about Jesus, I can't stop talking,
Some of my friends and family, get up when I do, and start walking.
I have been told so many times, folks won't come if I speak of Jesus,
For them I cry, and wonder why, yet know that they think Hell freezes.
Too many years, I neglected them, by being mad at man-made Church,
Mad at man, I turned away, but He wouldn't leave me in the Lurch.
He saved my worthless bacon, time and time again,
Not talking about Jesus now, would be a mortal sin.