The Painter of the clouds
Clouds dance across a sky tinted orange
A barn abandoned by most catches the artist's eye
Paper smudged with color becomes a masterpiece
These are all part of my father's vision
A vision filled with hope, encouragement and faith
Jesus, his home, his family, his life
Each piece intertwined unto the other
A smudge of paint, a drop of ink.
God led him to create the pieces he made of his life
Never to walk, never to learn, never to teach
These were all things that were not to be
Walking in faith, loving forever, learning each day,
Teaching for life, giving so much; this is his legacy!
Children watching and learning experimenting
Asking simple questions. Why is the sky purple?
The hope of each given day; what it is to be?
The joy of each night knowing that it was!
Forever learning, questioning and watching
Forever hoping and loving
The last moments so sweet
So sad so meant to be
Missing you each day
Watching the sky
You are the painter of the clouds
Paint me a sunset
Help me feel again the joy!
-Beth Seabaugh written in memory of her father
(Dr. Roy V. Schoenborn March 19,1925 -- March 15,2005)