She made me go places I didn't want to
& to say I'm sorry. She made me eat
food that I thought so nasty, and to
go to bed early.
She made me carry the heavy stuff,
after all I'm a strong man! Whenever
we crossed the street she made me hold
her hand.
I couldn't go to party's though I went
when she didn't know, but she just had
to ask the question, "Last night, where
did you go"?
It's half as cruel to beat me as to
make me get my own switch. “An attitude
adjustment tool”, I believe that was
her pitch.
Through all of life's ups and downs
retrospect reveals its ebb and flow.
I am the man I am today because of her,
you know.
If I should be a dad one day I’ll make
sure my kids understand, what a wonderful
woman you are, and you filled your role
in God’s plan.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Chosen Ones
The book of Matthew 22:14 says, "...For many are called, but few are chosen..." These are Jesus' words after telling a parable concerning the King throwing a wedding feast for his son. The thought concerning being called and chosen came to me as I was driving down Hardy Street.
I am not one of those persons that exclaim every now and then, "I think I have missed my calling"! I know without a shadow of a doubt that God has called me to be a preacher. I have not missed my calling. The problem is MANY are called. Wonderful, I am one of the many that have been called! FEW are chosen. Here is where I'm taking issue or am concerned. Will I be chosen? Am I doing what it takes to be chosen? What lack I yet?
I feel preaching is just one level up from being a Christian and if that is so, what is the next level? Those few that are chosen, what did they do to become chosen and what are they chosen to do? Thoughts anyone?
I am not one of those persons that exclaim every now and then, "I think I have missed my calling"! I know without a shadow of a doubt that God has called me to be a preacher. I have not missed my calling. The problem is MANY are called. Wonderful, I am one of the many that have been called! FEW are chosen. Here is where I'm taking issue or am concerned. Will I be chosen? Am I doing what it takes to be chosen? What lack I yet?
I feel preaching is just one level up from being a Christian and if that is so, what is the next level? Those few that are chosen, what did they do to become chosen and what are they chosen to do? Thoughts anyone?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The Farmer, The Car, And The Cornfield
This story is a result of a dream I had Saturday night and woke up Sunday morning reeling over. Written by Rynal Grant (THR) 2/6/11…Sunday morning.
I had a dream that I was in my home town. I walked around with my mother and we discussed how they were tearing down different buildings and building new ones.
She told me of how years ago this old man was given a car. In the trunk of the car was millions of dollars. He took the money and built himself a house, and started a farm.
Then I had an idea for a product that would make the world a better place. It was drinking water. But as the dream progressed, I wanted to improve upon that idea.
I went out and recruited a few folks that I believed could help me realize this dream. Among them a high school friend and a guy from India. We were in a room with an expansive view of our town fast becoming a city.
I asked them spreading my arms abroad, look around and tell me what you see? They answered but did not get it. I told them the answer, “No! Things (times) are changing.”
We proceeded to build our business. I had them recruit others (college students) to help. Then I got another idea for a small powdered packet that would add flavor to the drink while simultaneously making it cool. I got the idea thinking about people in other countries living under sweltering heat.
With all of the college students assembled in the classroom (slowly becoming a cornfield) I had the stage floor. I told them that this is the beginning of a company! I started to tell them what they had to do to help this come about. Simultaneously they disagreed and got up to leave.
After my failure I was walking through town and thinking to myself, I’m going to get with the Indian (from India) and see if we could still go forward with my cool water idea. I was walking with my friend down this dusty raod flanked by a cornfield and an older man, a farmer must have heard us talking and approached us. He told us, boys years ago someone gave me some money in a car, and I want to share it with you. I began to thank the man profusely. My friend began the descent down the steep embankment. I found myself on top of an old semi.
I told the old farmer that I’ll find another way down to the car. He seemed to agree that that was fine. As I searched for a safe way down another older man began to talk with him.
They spoke about the national anthem and hos someone sang it today. The farmer said with all seriousness, something about “they ought not to let him sing it! Sing about my America! I’d get up there and sing it myself!
It was then that I realized that these men were WWII veterans and my respect for them grew immensely.
The End.
In the beginning of the dream, the sky was obviously cloudy and dark. Towards the end of the dream, the sky was a bright golden color. I do not even remember seeing the blue of the sky. I never actually made it to the car that contained the money.
This dream was still so strongly in my mind when I work, I knew immediately that I needed to write about it before it went away. I did my best to accurately describe the story. I wanted to present to you the main parts or points.
Specific details of the city and the faces of people on down to the Indian, the farmer, and even my high school friend are very sketchy as I do not really recall ever seeing the details of their faces. It was as if I was dreaming out of my peripherals, only in reverse. Meaning the faces was more visible if I did not look at them directly.
Weird dream … huh?
I had a dream that I was in my home town. I walked around with my mother and we discussed how they were tearing down different buildings and building new ones.
She told me of how years ago this old man was given a car. In the trunk of the car was millions of dollars. He took the money and built himself a house, and started a farm.
Then I had an idea for a product that would make the world a better place. It was drinking water. But as the dream progressed, I wanted to improve upon that idea.
I went out and recruited a few folks that I believed could help me realize this dream. Among them a high school friend and a guy from India. We were in a room with an expansive view of our town fast becoming a city.
I asked them spreading my arms abroad, look around and tell me what you see? They answered but did not get it. I told them the answer, “No! Things (times) are changing.”
We proceeded to build our business. I had them recruit others (college students) to help. Then I got another idea for a small powdered packet that would add flavor to the drink while simultaneously making it cool. I got the idea thinking about people in other countries living under sweltering heat.
With all of the college students assembled in the classroom (slowly becoming a cornfield) I had the stage floor. I told them that this is the beginning of a company! I started to tell them what they had to do to help this come about. Simultaneously they disagreed and got up to leave.
After my failure I was walking through town and thinking to myself, I’m going to get with the Indian (from India) and see if we could still go forward with my cool water idea. I was walking with my friend down this dusty raod flanked by a cornfield and an older man, a farmer must have heard us talking and approached us. He told us, boys years ago someone gave me some money in a car, and I want to share it with you. I began to thank the man profusely. My friend began the descent down the steep embankment. I found myself on top of an old semi.
I told the old farmer that I’ll find another way down to the car. He seemed to agree that that was fine. As I searched for a safe way down another older man began to talk with him.
They spoke about the national anthem and hos someone sang it today. The farmer said with all seriousness, something about “they ought not to let him sing it! Sing about my America! I’d get up there and sing it myself!
It was then that I realized that these men were WWII veterans and my respect for them grew immensely.
The End.
In the beginning of the dream, the sky was obviously cloudy and dark. Towards the end of the dream, the sky was a bright golden color. I do not even remember seeing the blue of the sky. I never actually made it to the car that contained the money.
This dream was still so strongly in my mind when I work, I knew immediately that I needed to write about it before it went away. I did my best to accurately describe the story. I wanted to present to you the main parts or points.
Specific details of the city and the faces of people on down to the Indian, the farmer, and even my high school friend are very sketchy as I do not really recall ever seeing the details of their faces. It was as if I was dreaming out of my peripherals, only in reverse. Meaning the faces was more visible if I did not look at them directly.
Weird dream … huh?
Monday, November 29, 2010
Hope For Tomorrow
No deep thoughts
It seems the levy is dry.
No sweet thoughts
Only the tears I’ve cried.
No free thoughts
Controlled by baser minds
No sleep thoughts
In insomnia I confide.
The song, it plays
The only sound I hear.
The song, it stays
So deep within my ear.
The song, it betrays
My most secret fears.
The song it plays
The song must end here.
The darkest night
Pinnacle of the sun’s way.
The darkest night
ALWAYS vanish away.
The darkest night
What more can I say.
The darkest night
Bring forth the brightest day.
It seems the levy is dry.
No sweet thoughts
Only the tears I’ve cried.
No free thoughts
Controlled by baser minds
No sleep thoughts
In insomnia I confide.
The song, it plays
The only sound I hear.
The song, it stays
So deep within my ear.
The song, it betrays
My most secret fears.
The song it plays
The song must end here.
The darkest night
Pinnacle of the sun’s way.
The darkest night
ALWAYS vanish away.
The darkest night
What more can I say.
The darkest night
Bring forth the brightest day.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Palaver
Blue skies call my name
I will answer just the same
White clouds underneath
Help me forget about my pain
Stars flash with brilliant flares
And I cannot but stand and stare
Earth is turning underneath
As I proceed without a care
HIS gentle voice is calling me
I behold HIS infinite majesty
Strong hands hold me underneath
No longer shadows now clearly I see
…YOU do love me
Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
I will answer just the same
White clouds underneath
Help me forget about my pain
Stars flash with brilliant flares
And I cannot but stand and stare
Earth is turning underneath
As I proceed without a care
HIS gentle voice is calling me
I behold HIS infinite majesty
Strong hands hold me underneath
No longer shadows now clearly I see
…YOU do love me
Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
Monday, November 15, 2010
Come On In, The Water’s Fine
The day at the Hotel was starting off reasonably good. As I walked into the office everyone was happy and all smiles. I shot the breakfast lady, Marcie my usual look of “nah, nah, ne-nah, nah” too which she responded with a scowl. This is our relationship. We kid back and forth like that. I proceeded to clock in pick up all maintence requests, my radio, clipboard, and off to the maintence shack. From there I began the general cleanup of the hotel grounds.
It was a cool Mississippi morning. I was grateful for this. This past summer was so very unkind to me. But the sun came out, it was still cool, and the day was for lack of a better word, gorgeous. I passed an elderly gentleman who spoke and said, “It turned out to be a nice day.” I replied, “So far, anyway.” He laughed rather hysterically at my response, but in my mind I felt I was a little negative. After all of those classes my Pastor taught on being “positive”, having a “PMA, positive mental attitude”, and “self-fulfilling prophecies”, I should have known better. But I went my way and completed all of my initial tasks.
The final task of the day is testing, cleaning, and opening the pool. This has to be done before 10am when the pool is to be officially opened. First I decided to brush the sides before vacuuming it. As I neared the deep end, Marcie stepped outside the kitchen and asked me a question. I answered it. Then Miss Judy showed up. She’s the head housekeeper. The harassment ensued. We went back and forth briefly. But I continued to brush the sides of the pool.
They began to say things like, don’t go falling in and such the like. I’m not clear on what I said. But I think I said, “I won’t fall in.” I’ve been cleaning the pool for almost 2yrs and never fell in before. Then I brushed the side of the pool one more time. Because I’m in the deep end, I’m trying to make sure I hit the walls all the way down to the bottom. In doing so, I leaned too far forward. Then I realize, like a cartoon character, that there was nothing holding me up except for gravity. All the flailing, arm waving, and yelling could not stop gravity from her nefarious deed. I went in head first into 60 degree water.
I came up for air. I’m panicking and trying to stabilize myself. As you all know, statics does not look favorably upon blacks and our swimming skills. Luck for me, I am in that 5% range that can swim. But there is a difference between diving into cool water and falling head first in to cold water! I got my bearings, found the edge and did a series of breast strokes to get out of the water. When I got to the edge I pushed myself down into the water and back out again to give myself some leverage to get out.
Once I am out I got a guest on my left arm tugging and one of the other breakfast ladies, Shelia, on my right arm tugging and helping me out of the water. Well, I was already out of the water and I said as much. Marcie who was watching me went and told Frank our General Manager who came running to see if I was okay. He glanced, saw that I was fine and went back inside. Marcie chided him for that, but had I been in Frank’s position, I would have done the same. Even the front desk girl, Kawanna came out briefly to see what was happening. Then promptly went back inside to “tweet” about it on facebook and twitter.
*Smiles and says, friends*
This is an accurate account of what occurred that day. My cell phone was in my pocket and my radio on my hip. Both got wet. As of this post, my cell phone is in good working order. If you wish to hear the M. Night Shyamalan version (the version with a twist at the end) you can contact Marcie the breakfast lady for that version. In her version, Sheila clears the pool fence without using the gate and pulls me out of the pool. Never mind that I’m 5’ 11”, 300lbs and Sheila is 5’6” 160lbs. Sheila must be Wonder Woman in disguise, or something. The moral of the story is … when an elderly gentleman says to you, “It turned out to be a nice day.” Reply to him, “Yes Sir, it sure has.”
-Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
It was a cool Mississippi morning. I was grateful for this. This past summer was so very unkind to me. But the sun came out, it was still cool, and the day was for lack of a better word, gorgeous. I passed an elderly gentleman who spoke and said, “It turned out to be a nice day.” I replied, “So far, anyway.” He laughed rather hysterically at my response, but in my mind I felt I was a little negative. After all of those classes my Pastor taught on being “positive”, having a “PMA, positive mental attitude”, and “self-fulfilling prophecies”, I should have known better. But I went my way and completed all of my initial tasks.
The final task of the day is testing, cleaning, and opening the pool. This has to be done before 10am when the pool is to be officially opened. First I decided to brush the sides before vacuuming it. As I neared the deep end, Marcie stepped outside the kitchen and asked me a question. I answered it. Then Miss Judy showed up. She’s the head housekeeper. The harassment ensued. We went back and forth briefly. But I continued to brush the sides of the pool.
They began to say things like, don’t go falling in and such the like. I’m not clear on what I said. But I think I said, “I won’t fall in.” I’ve been cleaning the pool for almost 2yrs and never fell in before. Then I brushed the side of the pool one more time. Because I’m in the deep end, I’m trying to make sure I hit the walls all the way down to the bottom. In doing so, I leaned too far forward. Then I realize, like a cartoon character, that there was nothing holding me up except for gravity. All the flailing, arm waving, and yelling could not stop gravity from her nefarious deed. I went in head first into 60 degree water.
I came up for air. I’m panicking and trying to stabilize myself. As you all know, statics does not look favorably upon blacks and our swimming skills. Luck for me, I am in that 5% range that can swim. But there is a difference between diving into cool water and falling head first in to cold water! I got my bearings, found the edge and did a series of breast strokes to get out of the water. When I got to the edge I pushed myself down into the water and back out again to give myself some leverage to get out.
Once I am out I got a guest on my left arm tugging and one of the other breakfast ladies, Shelia, on my right arm tugging and helping me out of the water. Well, I was already out of the water and I said as much. Marcie who was watching me went and told Frank our General Manager who came running to see if I was okay. He glanced, saw that I was fine and went back inside. Marcie chided him for that, but had I been in Frank’s position, I would have done the same. Even the front desk girl, Kawanna came out briefly to see what was happening. Then promptly went back inside to “tweet” about it on facebook and twitter.
*Smiles and says, friends*
This is an accurate account of what occurred that day. My cell phone was in my pocket and my radio on my hip. Both got wet. As of this post, my cell phone is in good working order. If you wish to hear the M. Night Shyamalan version (the version with a twist at the end) you can contact Marcie the breakfast lady for that version. In her version, Sheila clears the pool fence without using the gate and pulls me out of the pool. Never mind that I’m 5’ 11”, 300lbs and Sheila is 5’6” 160lbs. Sheila must be Wonder Woman in disguise, or something. The moral of the story is … when an elderly gentleman says to you, “It turned out to be a nice day.” Reply to him, “Yes Sir, it sure has.”
-Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
Monday, August 30, 2010
Unsympathetic
Times are changing in this crazy world, minds are straying on this hazy pearl, wasting precious knowledge on the insatiably lazy, chasing that elusive dream, a bottled genie.
Men are born amazed at their years of slumber. Babies die betrayed at the hands of their mothers, sacrificed to the gods who count and number themselves deserving of the adoration of others.
The voice of the oppressed go unheard on a daily basis, the deafening sound canceled on the mind's oasis, a pleasantry offered within the ignorant and walled cities of unbelief.
The gramophone has exhausted it's vinyl polymer, the gullible will soon meet their end. The music was made, they danced and they played and finally in the end they did win! His inheritance is gone with the wind.
And those who opposed the righteous' cause, which argued against them day and night, stood face to face with their own executioner's blade, reflecting the truth of their plight, uttered these word's to Death's unsympathetic face ...
"We were wrong, and they were right".
Men are born amazed at their years of slumber. Babies die betrayed at the hands of their mothers, sacrificed to the gods who count and number themselves deserving of the adoration of others.
The voice of the oppressed go unheard on a daily basis, the deafening sound canceled on the mind's oasis, a pleasantry offered within the ignorant and walled cities of unbelief.
The gramophone has exhausted it's vinyl polymer, the gullible will soon meet their end. The music was made, they danced and they played and finally in the end they did win! His inheritance is gone with the wind.
And those who opposed the righteous' cause, which argued against them day and night, stood face to face with their own executioner's blade, reflecting the truth of their plight, uttered these word's to Death's unsympathetic face ...
"We were wrong, and they were right".
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