Post by Honeylioness on Oct 13, 2015 20:27:58 GMT -5
Eulogy for George Varney
IS IT GEORGE OR IS IT MEMOREX?
We each have a yearning for order,
to discover our rhythm and rhyme.
Alignment of inner and outer,
The marriage of earth with divine.
Some find their mode in mathematics,
Others think money’s the key,
Still others have faith in religion,
Or logical philosophy.
George felt is order in music,
Those notes on the treble and base.
Vibrated just right on the chords of is soul,
Resounding harmonious grace.
His fingers delighted on keyboard,
His stresses took flight with the sound,
Of tones gently played at the organ;
There George’s peace did abound.
And like a good servant of music,
And Christ’s holy mission to save,
He didn’t just play like a hermit,
And horde it alone in his cave.
He reached out beyond his own pleasure,
Evangel of love in a song,
Recorded on tapes he would send far afield,
To others who’s lives went awrong.
Many a hospital patient was healed by George’s good gift,
Many’s the sad and despairing,
Received from his tapes such a lift,
As steadfast as priest or a pastor,
He visited elderly care.
Sat down at the organ and reverently played,
Renditions of musical prayer.
And scores of his friends round the country,
Awaited their mail so keen.
Bringing another of George’s small tapes,
To bridge any distance between.
I remember their cozy lake cottage,
That wide picture window due East,
Allowing God’s beautiful nature,
To add to his musical feast.
Often he played for dear Gladys,
To heal her tormented moods,
Restoring a semblance of peace to a day,
That a flare-up of Alzheimer’s rued.
His tapes are collected by many,
And not just the one’s made by hands;
Those tapes of his smile and laughter,
Those tapes of his work and his plans.
Those tapes of his family and friendships,
Those tapes of his churches and loves.
Those tapes are recorded beyond Memorex,
And listed by heaven above.
Replay them when sadness sets o’re you,
Replay them with gracious appeal,
Replay them and listen to what it is like,
To know resurrection so real.
~ Author Unknown.
IS IT GEORGE OR IS IT MEMOREX?
We each have a yearning for order,
to discover our rhythm and rhyme.
Alignment of inner and outer,
The marriage of earth with divine.
Some find their mode in mathematics,
Others think money’s the key,
Still others have faith in religion,
Or logical philosophy.
George felt is order in music,
Those notes on the treble and base.
Vibrated just right on the chords of is soul,
Resounding harmonious grace.
His fingers delighted on keyboard,
His stresses took flight with the sound,
Of tones gently played at the organ;
There George’s peace did abound.
And like a good servant of music,
And Christ’s holy mission to save,
He didn’t just play like a hermit,
And horde it alone in his cave.
He reached out beyond his own pleasure,
Evangel of love in a song,
Recorded on tapes he would send far afield,
To others who’s lives went awrong.
Many a hospital patient was healed by George’s good gift,
Many’s the sad and despairing,
Received from his tapes such a lift,
As steadfast as priest or a pastor,
He visited elderly care.
Sat down at the organ and reverently played,
Renditions of musical prayer.
And scores of his friends round the country,
Awaited their mail so keen.
Bringing another of George’s small tapes,
To bridge any distance between.
I remember their cozy lake cottage,
That wide picture window due East,
Allowing God’s beautiful nature,
To add to his musical feast.
Often he played for dear Gladys,
To heal her tormented moods,
Restoring a semblance of peace to a day,
That a flare-up of Alzheimer’s rued.
His tapes are collected by many,
And not just the one’s made by hands;
Those tapes of his smile and laughter,
Those tapes of his work and his plans.
Those tapes of his family and friendships,
Those tapes of his churches and loves.
Those tapes are recorded beyond Memorex,
And listed by heaven above.
Replay them when sadness sets o’re you,
Replay them with gracious appeal,
Replay them and listen to what it is like,
To know resurrection so real.
~ Author Unknown.