By Patrick J. Phillips
When this life I'm in is done, And at the gates I stand,
My hope is that I answer all His questions on command.
I doubt He'll ask me of my fame, Or all the things I knew,
Instead, He'll ask of rainbows sent On rainy days I flew.
The hours logged, the status reached, The ratings will not matter.
He'll ask me if I saw the rays And how He made them scatter.
Or what about the droplets clear, I spread across your screen?
And did you see the twinkling eyes. If student pilots keen?
The way your heart jumped in your chest, That special solo day
-Did you take time to thank the one Who fell along the way?
Remember how the runway lights Looked one night long ago
When you were lost and found your way, And how-you still don't know?
How fast, how far, how much, how high? He'll ask me not these things
But did I take the time to watch The moonbeams wash my wings?
And did you see the patchwork fields And mountains I did mould;
The mirrored lakes and velvet hills, Of these did I behold?
The wind he flung along my wings, On final almost stalled.
And did I know I it was His name, That I so fearfully called?
And when the goals are reached at last, When all the flying's done,
I'll answer Him with no regret-Indeed, I had some fun.
So when these things are asked of me, And I can reach no higher,
My prayer this day -
His hand extends....To welcome home a Flyer.
(That is my Dad's 1st plane he bought)
