Sliced
apples and cookies I carried As
I peddled my little bike. Over
the tractor trail I rode, Going
much faster than I could ever hike. To
a favorite place I was going, A
place I played alone. Daddy
was in the field, And
Mommy was in our home. I
went here often, Some
say it was my little chapel, But
I think I liked being there Just
to eat my cookies and sliced apple. She had baked all morning, And I couldn’t wait. I got to taste the dough, And played from the kitchen to the gate. Mommy added the nuts and chips, As I looked up from the floor, Then with a smile, Added a special sprinkle that she got from the
store. I picked out the fruit, And I love the apple’s taste. Then Mommy peeled it so carefully, Not a trim was going to waste. And with a bag in hand, She said, “Go to your little chapel”, And off I rode, waiting a while, Before eating those cookies and sliced apple. As
I now reside In
this place surrounded by God’s blessing, I
often remember those times of riding off To
my quiet place of resting. And
as I look at the cross So
large above the blessed altar, I
thank Jesus for my Mother, Who
He had called to be a special daughter. Now
hand in hand I sit with her In
this gorgeous chapel, And
before I give the sermon, She
smiles, And
hands me a bag Of
cookies and sliced apple.
Cookies And Sliced Apple by Ronhales
Psalm
16:7-8
Selah
