A Handyman's Praise

On the day when Bill died, he had fixed one clogged sink,
A fountain, two gas leaks, one bed and a chair.
He sat down to rest some. Then, quick as a wink,
He found himself Elsewhere, but nothing was there.

The most he could see was a mist all about,
Save that off to one side was a powerful light.
So he set out to seek it, to try and find out
What was happening to him, just to learn what he might.

As he walked, came a Voice that proclaimed, "Hello, Bill!
Sit down; take that rest you so richly deserve.
I'll just finish preparing the place where you still
Can be helpful and happy, where you can yet serve."

Then there was a chair, so he sat down to wait.
A table appeared, with a drink and a snack.
While he ate, the mist cleared and he saw a white gate,
Then a fence round a house, and a garden in back.

"Welcome home", said the Voice. And the town next appeared,
Beyond it, a forest; above, all the sky.
Bill then beheld people, and what was so weird
Was he thought that he knew them but didn't know why.

Bill asked, "Who are these folks that I find me among?"
The Voice said, "They're people you've helped all your life
Who arrived before you did -- but now they're all young
And their health has returned. See, here is your wife."

Just then she appeared by his side with a smile,
No longer wizened, once more in her prime.
"Hey, Bill, I knew you'd show up if I waited a while.
And finally, you're here. Well, it's about time."

"But look, see your mom and your dad and Aunt Faye?
There's old man Jenkins. There's Sergeant Malloy.
Over there are the Johnsons and Mrs. O'Day,
And that handsome young man was the sick neighbor boy."

The Voice then cut in, saying, "Everyone's here, Bill,
The people you helped with your handyman's kit.
Their lives are all new. And it's time, if you will,
For you to step into new work, a job you'll just fit."

"I have it in mind that your talents will make you

A praise group director of peerless repute."
"Now wait," countered Bill, "Handymen don't do
Thinks like that. This just won’t compute."

"What I know about music would fit in a walnut."

The Voice said, "Now son, I can take care of that.
The music's no problem. What you do have is all but
Impossible to find, but it's there 'neath your hat."

"Every job you have done, you've performed to your best.

You held out for excellence, always took the hard route,
When some folks advised you should cut corners, lest
You go broke and your family be left destitute."

"But you trusted your God to provide all of your need,

And you just went ahead and delivered your best.

In front of the world, you planted this seed:
You showed how this life of dependence was blessed."

"Bill, the essence of praise is not musical skill.

It's not shouting 'Praise God' at the top of your voice.

But rather, it's showing, by act and by will,
That I'm what I Am and that I’m the best choice."

"So thank you, my son; it's now time to come in
To the joy of your Father who loves you in ways
That you fully revealed to those still mired in sin,
Those who just might be saved by a handyman's praise."

Copyright ©2011, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.