The Eighth

The eighth it was when my friend came;
He said his piece, then peace remained;
For as he spoke I understood –
Perceiver's insight words – so good.

I said, Dear friend, why, come on in –
So good to see God's gift again.
"God's gift? He asked, "I don't see how
That could be me – what's all this row?

"Mom said you're in some scrap of sorts;
That I can understand, of course –
I said to Morris when I'd heard
Your move to here – I understood –

"At once, said 'Oh-oh – trouble comes,
Those folks can't take', (I knew at once)
'The level of his honesty;
Yes, trouble comes – that I can see.'

"For I grew up in that fair town,
Those folks are good – I don't put down
My kith and kin, but goodness me,
There trouble comes – that I can see."

I said, "The town is closed somehow;
It seems so strange – so nice, then, ‘Pow!!’
The other town? No problem there,
But here – to what on earth compare?"

I said four parts at least there are
To it's strange ways – I'm just this far
In getting it all figured out;
(I know what other town's about).

First part, the other town's a mess,
But they are happy in their nest;
Hillbillies they, ‘Somehow get by’
Their motto is, and then they die.

They have no shame, quite happy they
To spend their days with meager pay;
They eke their living from the soil;
Do not engage in excess toil.

They've given up – ‘Why try?’ they ask,
‘It's not the best, these puny tasks,
But we're alive, we get along;
Each week we sing our Savior’s song.

This town? No way they'd live that way;
‘It's agri-business’, they would say;
That's how they would describe their toil,
As they work up this better soil.

A line divides the towns in two,
"Tall-grass", and "short”, came into view
When I checked soils along the ditch;
That's part of it – these soils are rich.

I know these boys and girls look down
Upon the small hillbilly town;
They ratify themselves again
Things jointly passed, (so pride's retained).

As managers they are the best,
Five generations stood the test
Of the Homestead life – survivors these;
I call them agri-wannabes.

But friend, there is a part I miss –
I sense it plays a part in this;
And when I have it I will see,
What trouble is that troubles these.

He laughed and said, "Those parts are right;
And yes, one thing eludes your sight –
They envy them." How can that be?!
Despise – yet envy what they see?

"Oh yes – you see these folks ’round here,
Are deep in debt, shed private tears;
As farmers they're the best of course,
But walk each day in deep remorse –

For they could lose their farms quite soon,
They are the ones – there's little room
To play the game of make-believe;
When values gone, they'll have to leave.

"Their shame's so high they cannot face
Their neighbors' scorn – they feel disgraced;
They take their trips; drive shiny cars;
‘No rust on me – I'm best, by far!’

"But all that's left is empty shell;
It looks so good, their shiny hell,
But underneath it’s empty space –
A rotten core – immense disgrace.

"The system's broken, Stu, I say –
If they can't do it any way
It can't be done – they blame themselves,
Live out each day in lonely hell."

And envy? where does that fit in?
"They love to meet with loser-kin;
Kick back, and laugh – no pressure there;
An  evening with no troubled care.

"Then they return to pressured life
Of make-believe success in strife.
The others hate their world of sloth;
They love to dress in tailored cloth –

"And for a night each second week,
Dress-up, and with their neighbors meet;
Pretend they live not in despond,
There, to a better life respond.

"So each has envy – one for class,
The other for release at last;
But both when done their holiday
Return to life their normal way."

The lights came on, I saw at all,
I understood their acts since fall;
And why they could not speak of it –
Their shame of life – in which they sit.

That Sunday when I spoke my piece,
I said, "I understand at least
In each and every town and clan,
A culture-code protects their land.

"We get just eighteen months to learn
How things are done, then we are spurned;
I got fourth digit for your lock –
I can these streets and alleys walk.

"I also know I must not speak
Its digits out, no, you must seek
To know if I now understand,
By how I walk within your land.

"Like campfire-guessing-game at night,
We guessed the code, showed if we're right;
Let other campers take their turn –
Perception was the way to learn.

"So watch me, friends, I won't defy
Your gentle ways as days go by;
Then you will know (God's love will show)
If I your culture-code now know."

In silence I took a hit on hit,
'Twas hard, but God took care of it;
(I would not let the UC use
This local pain as their excuse).

They knew – when all was said and done,
That though I lost, I'd really won;
With deep respect each walked away
From troubled times we'd lived those days.

God blew the dam; set people free;
I did not see on bended knee
’Till years had passed, (its complex was);
I played my part by grace because –

There in the midst of living hell
I knew my Savior, knew him well;
He said, "Show up, but silent be,
And you will see their Jubilee."

I did, and with support he gave,
He reached behind the lines to save
This rookie fighter on the field,
And helped me not to fight, or yield.

One day before their trumped-up court,
Long after I'd been stopped from work,
He showed me Angels hustling ’round –
Said, "This is big, so hold your ground."

I did – years later, Rabbi showed,
"Restraint" as key to learning-load
For me, and for the UCC,
"As check on generosity".

Oh Lord, Your love to us these days,
As we grow up into Your ways,
Exceeds our comprehending eyes,
As earth is far from prairie skies.

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