I am not a poet and I know it.
Be that as it may, perusing an old flash drive, I found a couple of tries of mine from at least a decade ago.
Once upon a time, there was a woman who lived in a comfortable house.
She had many, many blessings but to her not much clout.
One busy day she questioned why it was that prosperity had been such a flirt.
And so, frustrated and pondering, she filled the tub with jeans and shirts.
Licking her wounds and applying pity to her hurts,
All of a sudden from her own mouth came a blurt —
I just want to succeed, at something!
Hardly before her words fell on her ears, came His gentle but oh
so poignant probes.
Why Little Girl? Do you know? Why for success you are craving so?
Her tears began to flow as she saw what she had not seen before.
He had measured her recognition and her gain;
He had His reasons for those tiny downpours!
Sighing the Little Girl ceased to lament;
Glory, Hallelujah! She believed Abba’s love and now she’s content.
Under the Blood
I worried when you first for Heaven departed:
because my words to you were not always kind-hearted.
And as memories attacked my mind, my chest joined in
and heaved and heaved — it was so very hard to breathe.
What? What did you say with that voice so familiar, gentle
It’s under the Blood, my Little One, came the reply.
All those coulda, woulda, shoulda HE our Savior, has washed away.
All is well, I love you too. So stop your fretting, this isn’t about me, or
Yet I must say, I am enjoying this Eternity, and I want you to love JESUS even more dearly.
You know that here, a thousand years are as a day.
So I’ll see you in a moment — now put away all your dismay.
All is under the Blood and that my Little One is where it will stay — forever, and ever says our Loving Father, Yahweh.
We were made for this,
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