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

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