True Is His Word
Each day passes and I wonder -
How much longer
to walk beside my granddaughter
on a trail that follows a creek,
picking up fallen acorns,
pushed off branches of old, oak trees
by Autumn’s chilled, harsh winds-
left as gifts for today?
How much longer
before I can no longer
pick her up
offering comfort when she cries
kissing boo-boos that sting or bleed -
or both?
How much longer
’til I can’t hug her goodbye?
Can’t hold her close?
Can’t tell her -
I’ll love you forever
and only stare back with
glass-eyed glares,
void of emotion, life, living?
It may not seem fair to others
it may not seem fair to me -
but fair?
What is fair?
Is fair
where one lives pain free
while another lives tortured in boundless, physical suffering?
Is fair
where one is blessed
while pushing her little ones on park swings and down swift slides of laughter,
while another, standing at her baby’s graveside,
watches her little one buried and lowered into the frozen, lifeless ground?
Is fair
where one daily receives the miracle of movement
walks to work each day,
while another lies paralyzed and strapped to cold, metal arm and foot rests?,
Is fair
where one laughs with a dear friend
while another weeps -
experiencing betrayal by another?
Life
for the living
is not fair.
This little monster that seeks to claim residence inside of me
fights to take a little more of my living
every minute
of every day.
Seeking to steal my joy
kill my hope
destroy my faith.
Little monster whittles away at my brain -
I fight for my life.
Not alone.
Never alone
while I walk the trails of life.
Led to green pastures
still waters
my soul is refreshed.
His promises are true.
He is faithful.
Through dark valleys
where I don’t want to see -
but where I must walk.
Valleys we all must go through.
We are not alone.
Never alone.
True
are His promises.
True
is His word.
In our laughter or weeping.
Our walking or shuffling.
Bound by pain or free to run.
Rejoicing in the living or mourning the dead.
Betrayed or sheltered.
He has not left
nor has He forsaken.
Never will He.
Through dark valleys,
fear is the catalyst
that sends us to His arms.
There we can weep,
there we can mourn,
and there
we will dance.
True are His promises.
True
is His word.
Journeying with you,
Sherri
