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)