The rancher went one day to fix a distant fence.
The wind was cold and gusty and the clouds rolled, gray and dense,
As he pounded the last staples in and gathered tools to go,
The temperature had fallen and the snow began to blow.
When he finally reached his pickup, he felt a heavy heart,
From the sound of that ignition, he knew it wouldn't start.
So Jake did what most of us would do, if only we'd been there.
He humbly bowed his balding head and sent aloft a prayer.
As he turned the key for the last time, he softly cursed his luck.
They found him 3 days later, frozen stiff in that old truck.
Now Jake had been around in life, and done his share of roaming.
But when he saw Heaven, he was shocked -- it looked just like Wyoming.
Of all the saints in Heaven, his favorite was St. Peter.
[Now, this line, it ain't needed but it helps with rhyme and meter.]
So they sat and talked a minute or 2, or maybe it was 3,
Nobody was keepin' score -- in Heaven time is free.
"I've always heard," Jake said to Pete, "that God will answer prayer,
But one time I asked for help, and, well He just plain wasn't there.
Does God answer prayers of some, and ignore the prayers of others?
That don't seem exactly square -- I know all men are brothers.
Or does he randomly reply, without good rhyme or reason?
Maybe, it's the time of day, the weather or the season.
Now I just ain't trying to act smart, it's just the way I feel,
And I was wondering', could you tell me -- what the heck's the deal?"
Peter listened very patiently and when Jake was done,
There were smiles of recognition, and he said, "So, you're the one!
That day your truck wouldn't start, and you sent your prayer a flying,
You gave us all a real bad time, with hundreds of us a trying.
A thousand angels rushed to check the status of your file,
But you know, Jake - - - we hadn't heard from you in quite a while.
And though all prayers are answered, and God ain't got no quota,
He didn't recognize your voice, and started a truck in South Dakota."
***So remember to keep in touch.***
Love and Peace, Barefoot