the Ranchers Prayer

Jake, the rancher, went one day

To fix a distant fence.

The wind was cold and gusty

And the clouds rolled gray and dense.

As he pounded the last staples in

And gathered tools to go,

The temperature had fallen,

And snow began to blow.

When he finally reached his pickup,

He felt a heavy heart.

From the sound of that ignition

He knew it wouldn’t start.

So Jake did what most of us

Would do if we were there.

He humbly bowed his balding head

And sent aloft a prayer.

As he turned the key the last time,

He softly cursed his luck

They found him three days later,

Frozen stiff in that old truck.

Now Jake had been around in life

And done his share of roaming.

But when he saw Heaven, he was shocked –

It looked just like Wyoming !

Of all the saints in Heaven,

His favorite was St. Peter .

So they sat and talked a minute or two,

Or maybe it was three.

Nobody was keeping’ score –

In Heaven, time is free.

‘I’ve always heard,’ Jake said to Pete ,

‘that God will answer prayers,

But the one time I asked for help,

Well, he just wasn’t there.’

‘Does God answer prayers of some,

And ignore the prayers of others?

That don’t seem exactly square –

I know all men are brothers.’

‘Or does he randomly reply,

Without good rhyme or reason?

Maybe, it’s the time of day,

The weather or the season.’

‘Now I ain’t trying to act smart,

It’s just the way I feel.

And I was wondering’, could you tell me

What the heck’s the deal?!’

Peter listened very patiently

And when Jake was done,

There were smiles of recognition,

And he said, ‘So, you’re the one!!’

That day your truck, it wouldn’t start,

And you sent your prayer a flying,

You gave us all a real bad time,

With hundreds of us trying.’

‘A thousand angels rushed,

To check the status of your file,

But you know, Jake , we hadn’t heard

From you in quite a while.’

‘And though all prayers are answered,

And God ain’t got no quota,

He didn’t recognize your voice,

And started a truck in Minnesota ‘!

IT’S BEST TO KEEP IN TOUCH…


- Bill Jones