on Her Seventy-Fifth Birthday,"
by Son Ronald Ginther
we had no time to start a riot;
When someone climbs a high mountain,
You've got to celebrate with fun!
You're quite a person of your own,
unique in form, with your own tone.
You're quite the cook with just one tune:
pancakes gallop off your spoon.
you clean up every sorry sight.
Your new car was quite the miracle--
we thought that your bank account was null.
Your voice may be a little cracked,
but you drive like a lumber jack.
"Sunshine Girl"--you're always there,
You've come from circumstances hard,
times when pork was fried with lard.
You worked in homes with all your might,
forty cents a day and night.
Then came Bob, a landscaper--
no Norskie had his handsome lure.
There were no riches, but what a ball!
His airplane was so slim and sleek,
he let you fly o'er mountain peak.
You took the train to meet him out
where salmon jump and frisk about.
From South Dakota, bleak and cold,
to Washington on faith--how bold!
You settled soon above a vale
where rhubarb, berries, were on sale.
Your little cabin was just right,
the rent was low, the bed-rows tight.
Then came the day that was Bob's last,
to heaven bright Dad's soul flew fast.
He left his lady in a shack,
but she had God and did not lack.
Visitors were all amazed,
they found no tears, she was not fazed.
She's been that way now ever since,
it's faith that surmounts every fence.
We gained the seventh and then one more,
a family rich though money-poor.
It's not the dollars or the cents,
the One who died for us contents.
She's going strong, this Mother Pearl,
and still keeps things stirred in a swirl!
We love her more than just a bit,
She's funny and has godly wit.
She's always got a handy joke,
to give your funny-bone a poke.
So if you're down, a little grim,
she'll get you laughing--to the "brim".
It's not the coffee in your cup,
it's Christ in her that fills you up.