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I Bleed Bus Red

The following poem was written for all the bus workers of First Baptist Church of Rosemount. It is dedicated to them; thank you for your hard work and faithfulness to the Bus Ministry. Praise the Lord our red buses (and yellow) are still going for the Lord.


I Bleed Bus Red

Bus workers and bus captains-they’re quite a breed.
They have a common bond, to meet a need.
There’s a unique culture, as this poem will tell,
It’s in their veins, they know bus ministry well.

In the winter it’s cold; in the summer it’s hot.
They don’t complain; as far as work goes, there’s a lot.
Their heartbeat is for families; they give it their all.
Through bus calling and hard work, they answer the call.

Bringing people to church, so they might believe.
They’re the first to arrive, and the last to leave.
The bus pulls into church; it’s now time to count,
The bus comes to a complete stop, then it’s time to get out.

Kids listen in class; God works in their heart,
Many come to know Christ, workers doing their part.
Before you know it, it’s time to get on the bus,
Often it’s treat time; kids do not put up a fuss.

There’s lots of commotion, and definitely some noise,
Passing out those treats to the girls and the boys.
Kids can’t wait for the bus, wondering what’s going on next week,
A promotion or prize? Or some paper bag they would peek.

We drop the kids off, but sometimes a captain gets out,
To walk a kid to the door, letting parents know what the trouble was about.
We pray when we start, we pray when we end,
People get discouraged, but there are spirits to mend.

The winter is brutal; we would like a warm bus.
Don’t open the back door-that alarm grates on us!
Windows down in the summer, staying cool – no doubt,
Workers put up the windows, when we finish the route.

The kids want hugs, and sometimes we break up a fight;
The driver parks the bus, and is sure to turns off the lights.
It helps and identifies you, that large bus number mark,
It’s still seen on Mondays, on your hand it still shows up dark.

There’s bus calling on Saturday, or walking a kid across the street.
There are treats to be bought, or shoes tied on a kid’s feet.
Or leading the kids in a program, or the bus needing to be swept,
There’s also time spent on my knees, and some times that I’ve wept.

Workers are hungry afterward, and stomachs are growling,
Can’t get home fast enough! For food, they are prowling.
Having worked up an appetite, they just have to wait;
With bus treats to carry them over, they always eat lunch late.

To the mechanics that are on duty, a lot of oil changes that are done,
The inspections and the details, making sure every week the buses run.
There’s long hours working hard, checking under the buses’ hoods,
Replacing parts from time to time, hearing an inspector say, “This one’s good!”
To the bus driver and the worker, to the mechanic and the captain,
By the week, month, and year, you’re the people who make this happen.
Our workers bleed “bus red”; this ministry runs through our veins.
It’s a cause we believe in. Praise the Lord for thousands saved!

Written by Charlie J. Graves
Dedicated to our Bus Workers
February 3, 2013

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