Del “Abe” Jones
HOUSE FOR SALE
I was strolling down the street
Of this little country town
And saw behind a picket fence
A sign stuck in the ground.
It said, “Building For Sale”
“Zoned – Commercial Property”
And there was a phone number
“Call For Appointment To See”.
It had windows of stained glass
And a steeple pointing to the sky
An old man sat there on the steps
With tears streaming from his eyes.
I walked through the open gate
And sat down next to his side
I asked him, “Why the tears?”
And he wiped them away and sighed.
“Son, they’re selling this old church.
Built a new one down the lane
And though they’ll prob’ly tear it down
Old mem’ries of it will remain.”
He rose, struggling to his feet
And walked slowly towards the door
He invited me to come inside
Said he’d like to talk some more.
As I followed him down the aisle
He pointed toward the altar
Said, “My wife and I stood there
And I made a true vow to her.”
“My children were baptized right there
As a matter of fact, so was I
And here I told my Mom and Dad
That sad, and final goodbye.”
“I gave my daughter away
On the day when she was wed
And I bowed my head many times
To say most the prayers I’ve said.”
“I placed flowers on her breast
When my Lady went away
And I’d planned on coming here
When it comes, my Judgment Day.”
He dropped down onto his knees
Bowed his head, said, “Lord above,
How can you let them do it?
Sell this house so full of love?”
Then he looked up at the figure
That hung there on the wall
And said, “Yes, I guess you’re right!
It’s just wood and stone, that’s all.”
“The House you really dwell in
Is right here, inside my heart
And it can’t be bought or sold,
Be torn down or fall apart.”
He turned to me with a smile
And said, “Son, it’s time to leave,
Because I’ve learned, it’s not where
What counts is how, you believe.”
©Copyright March 2005 by Del “Abe” Jones