2012 Poems

The EGG Church

You know I heard a story about a man who once mixed batter,
He depended on a special one who measured for that matter.
Then there’s a story about men with ice cream scoops,
And a couple of guys who lay out newspaper and clean up after the troops.
Then there’s those women who occasionally allow a special sort of man,
To shape those eggs into beautiful form, each one by hand.
There are men who melt chocolate, one’s tall, one short.
Why, they even allow preachers to do things of that sort.
There are some who dip eggs in a big chocolate filled pot,
Standing all that time is tiresome and for some must be quite hot.
They have folks who wrap the eggs and talk as they go
It must be done precisely, no green part can show.
They have some who scrape tables and pick them up, too,
While others cover them with paper that is sparkling, white, and new.
The story goes on, that someone carries a broom,
And makes sure there’s no chocolate on the floor of that great, big room
There’s this guy who picks up boxes and puts eggs on the shelf
And there’s Santa cutting paper with the help of his own elf.
It’s even been told that the police chief was there, dressed in his crisp white shirt.
Even a Librarian and a special cashier helped, and no one even got hurt!
I hear there are people sequestered away, who count out the bills
And count the change that comes in, on a certain little wagon with wheels.
Why, I’ve heard tale there’s a saint that sells the eggs, always with a smile
She counts them, bags them and and carries them, and is kind all the while.
There is one who makes phone calls, and one who takes in every e-mail,
And some who take them out to stores to be sold from a basket or pail.
But you know I heard that people buy them by the dozen,
Send them out to friends, neighbors, aunts, uncle or a cousin.
The best part of the story is how the money is used by the community it serves
To help the children, the needy, the battered, the elderly and anyone they feel it deserves.
Now these tales are told all around the town about all these special people
Who come to make eggs at the EGG Church, the church with the little white steeple.
So if you hear this tale of the EGG Church down on Oakhurst Street
I hope you’ll repeat this tale to everyone you meet.

                                                                                                  By:  Ellen Watts – April 2012


We’ve heard a lot about Hope this year in our devotions, from time to time,
So I hope you won’t mind, if that is the subject of my rhyme.
I hope the people who bought our eggs enjoyed them every time.
I hope they didn’t find anything wrong, like their change was missing a dime.
Let’s hope each egg was made just right, the batter is mixed by a man you know,
And it could be the ingredients get tweeked a little bit as we grow.
I hope no one finds that the egg is misshapen as the ladies roll out that dough.
I hope no one notices the mess that some dippers always make as they go.
As we tell our story to others I hope that we tell it just right.
‘Cause the story’s a good one of how one person’s vision came to light.
Now speaking of stories, the good ones are told as the eggs are being wrapped tight.
And we dream about eggs as we put our head on the pillow each and every night.
I hope that the new folks that helped us can come back and help us next year.
Oh, how we hold the Baptists, Methodists, neighbors, friends and quilters so dear.
Now hope is our subject and I hope that it is quite clear
That the eggs that we create, help many in the community right here.
While we wait for the blessed Hope, our Lord Jesus Christ, Savior of Mankind,
Let’s continue to work for His Glory, His Honor and His Love in our heart and mind.
We have hope in the great One, who taught us to always be kind;
So remember the promise of Jesus, “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind.”
“Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him,
because he always lives to intercede for them.” Heb. 7:25
This is our HOPE!

                                                                                                  By:  Ellen Watts – April 2012