Our Regina

She is alive and yet
she is not there.
From brown to gray
the years have turned her hair.
And yet the mind
cannot forget the days.
She showed her faith and love
in many ways.

Her years of youth
were not always so kind.
There was abuse
from those who were so blind.
And to despair,
she just would not give in
inspite of all
who heaped on her their sins.

Her married years still proved
to hold more pain.
She worked so hard, a home,
her own, to gain.
As children came
another one was lost.
His name was Wayne,
born dead, laid at the cross.

And still, as time
went rolling on so fast.
Still can't believe,
the loss, another gift.
Her first born child,
a teen, so full of life,
God took her home
that awful, tragic night.

Through out it all
she never did give up.
Just like her Lord,
she drank her bitter cup.
But unto Christ,
she gave it all to Him.
For at the end
she knew with Him
she'd win.

A few more years
had quickly come and gone.
And now the news
would leave her all alone.
Her love, from youth,
would serve another test.
He fought the fight
but met his final rest.

A Husband
to the husbandless, indeed.
Christ promised her
within His word, He'd be.
Her life went on
in quiet solitude
depending, solely on,
Our God, that's good.

I can not say how life was
the past years.
But, I believe
it still was filled with tears.
Cause, over time her eyes
had grown so dim.
Once, sparkle there,
no life was seen within.

And now she lies
within a nursing home.
Throughout the months,
the hours, all alone.
She was struck down,
an early fifty-nine,
by a disease
that slowly kills the mind.

Yet, through it all
I sense God's presence there.
A "Special Grace"
for times we cannot bear.
God holds her in
His loving, caring arms.
Until He takes her home
from this world's harm.

A mansion will
be waiting for her there.
And those gone on before
within his care.
A glorious time up there
she will behold.
While with her Savior
walking streets of gold.

And once again
she'll pick up her guitar.
and on piano,
she'll play familiar bars.
With those gone on,
the Shindig of their lives,
As they perform
and worship, Jesus Christ.

Poem by Janet Pursel
~January 02, 2002~