I wrote this last fall while watching my grandmother slowly die from cancer. My dad was taking it so well considering everything. I wasn't always the best son and he and I didn't see eye to eye on some things but I love him and he loves me. I wrote this poem after studying 1 Timothy chapter 5 one night at Bible Class.

A little history. My dad used an old broken oar from six flags to spank my brothers and I when we deserved it until we were thirteen years old. We got 1 spanking when we did something bad but not supremely horrible and 3 for all the really bad stuff but he never gave more than three no matter how bad we were. At 28 I look back and laugh now at some of the antics we did trying to avoid our just desserts. Padding our underwear with toilet paper or more underwear or the worst, failing to move our hands out of the way as he swung. Anyway, for those of you who understand this poem, I hope this brings back fond memories of your parent(s) and maybe you'll thank them for the discipline you received when you were younger.