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Mabel's Corner
This page is dedicated to proems and short stories many of which have been written by a sweet lady (Mabel) which is 86 and still serving the Lord. You can meet her in person at the Osage Lighthouse Assembly of God Church in Linn MO.
The First Proem is written in her honor by a lady from our church.
Please come back as I will be updating this page with new items about once a month.
Sis Mabel
Even in all your orneriness
You are the light of the world.
In times of your darkest weariness,
You still uphold the Lord.
A Christian tried and true,
You trust God in all you do.
And because you're one of God's chosen few,
I'm so thankful to have known you.
*
Letter from Mom
One year with Jesus
Oh,- what beauties I've beheld.
It is more glorious
Than mortal tongue can tell.
Serving my family I did with love
Thanks to Jesus' help from above.
Now the streets of gold I trod
And live each day with our dear God.
My children I adored you best
Now it's time for my heavenly rest,
Keep up God's work and then
We can meet in heaven again!
by Deb Puckett
T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone.
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakend and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps."
The Soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night,
This Guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.