by Lucy M. Young
One brick at a time will build the highest wall.
One step at a time will cover many miles.
Inch by inch the spider builds her lovely web
Surely, bit by bit, God turns our tears to smiles.
When the future looks so dark you'd like to quit
Just turn to God and see what He can do.
Wait and trust in Him and you will find
'Though the day be dark the sun will soon shine through.
by Lucy M. Young
The leaves are turning gold and crimson,
Sure sign that summer's drying,
Asters and chrysanthemums are blooming everywhere;
Spreading apple trees and grapevines
Laden with their ripening bounty
Of luscious fruit, their perfume fills the air.
Flocking birds are swiftly gathering,
Daily feeding on the plenitude
Of seeds and berries in the woods and fields.
Days are bright and warm and sunny,
Nights are clear and cool and frosty,
The air is crisp and clean like sparkling wine;
Drinking deeply of their vintage
We're with grateful hearts rejoicing
In the glory of the Master's great design.
by Lucy M. Young
I asked the Lord to walk with me,
And everywhere He walks with me,
He guards my every step.
I asked Him then to hold me up,
Where'er I go He holds me up,
He does not let me fall.
I asked that He might give me strength
To face whatever each day brings
Of weakness, doubt or fear;
I asked for Him to be my guide
Through days of pain and sleepless nights,
He makes my way secure.
'Though there be days when things go wrong
And my burden seems too much to bear
I know He's by my side.
His love sustains me constantly,
His strength supports my faltering steps,
He is my guiding light
by Lucy M. Young
It moved in slowly from the West
Stealthily obscuring the sun.
The blue sky disappeared behind the dark and threatening clouds.
Lightning streaked across the blackness,
Thunder rolled and muttered,
Darkness deepened
Turning day to deepest twilight,
Evening shades beneath the trees.
Then came the rain -
A drenching, roaring deluge upon the parched dry earth.
The thirsty plants accepted it
And lifted grateful leaves like hands to God.
Reluctantly the storm released its grip upon the humid atmosphere
And drifted slowly on beyond the mountain
by Lucy M. Young
A patch of deep blue sea above the city skyline
For fluffy white cloud ships to sail upon
God knew we needed something bright and cheery
After cloudy days of rain and gloom
So thank you, Lord, for this small piece of April
To help us through the last grim days of March.
by Lucy M. Young
Blue skies of April
Loveliest of the year
Shining through my window
Drying up my tears.
Winter was so lonely -
Bleak and cold and drear,
Easily forgotten
Now that April's here.
New green leaves and swelling buds
Bring new hope and cheer;
Dandelions, fresh green grass
Remind us God is near.
Blue skies of April
Loveliest of the year
Bringing resurrection
And a bright new year.
by Lucy M. Young
She came to us, bright-eyed, vivacious;
Brimming with enthusiasm, joyous and hopeful,
As she faced her life of service to the Lord.
But then what dreadful blasphemy she perpetrated -
The service started a few minutes late!
Oh horrors!
And then, alas, the service of Communion -
Passing bread from hand to hand -
Oh mercy, what a dreadful sin -
Were all hands clean?
The meaning of the service lost completely to a few self-righteous souls.
How many similar atrocities has she committed?
She loves us all just as we are,
But she is only one small voice crying in a wilderness
Of sanctimonious bigots
And weak-kneed doubters floundering in the dark,
Pulled first one way and then another
By the hypocritical and baseless castigations
Of a narrow-minded core of pseudo-Christians.
You who are doing this to her:
What makes you think you are so perfect
That you can sit in judgement of her work?
Who among you is so pure as to be qualified
To cast the first stone?
Whoever you are stand up and be counted.
And let the love and wisdom of our Lord
Judge you justly.
Oh hypocrites!
Instead of picking at the tiny flaws we might find in her,
We should take a clear, unbiased look
At our own closets' skeletons.
If we can do this honestly we'll realize
That we're not capable of judging her.
Let us then be quiet and receptive
As she strives to lead us closer to the Lord.
If we cannot do this it's time to leave the church
And try to find another.
photo by Jarren Simmons
by Lucy M. Young
She puts her mind and heart and soul
Into her daily service to the Lord.
She loves the Lord and tries with deep sincerity
To follow in His footsteps.
She loves her flock and tries so hard to please;
But she is a human being, not a saint.
Are we so perfect that we have the right
To sit in judgment of her efforts as she tries to lead us?
There was but one completely perfect shepherd.
He loved us all and loves us still,
Imperfect as we are;
But He was hated, criticized and finally crucified
Because a few self-righteous, twisted souls
Could not corrupt Him
Or bend Him to their selfish wills.
Are we so different from that evil mob?
Why must we treat our shepherdess so shamefully?
May God be with her, strengthen her, uphold her;
And help us see the light before it is too late.
photo by Jaka Skrlep on Unsplash
by Lucy M. Young
A fine young man admits to being gay -
He's fired from his job;
Another, not allowed to serve his country,
Is beaten, tortured, killed.
So what if they were gay?
It only means God made them just a little different.
God gave me brown eyes.
Maybe yours are blue -
Does that mean that I should punish you
Because your eyes are not like mine?
Maybe you like apple pie with cheese -
I like it plain;
Your hair may be curly, mine is straight;
Your skin is brown or black or yellow,
Mine is white -
How does that make either one of us superior?
God made us as we are -
We are His children.
He has good reasons for the differences.
As yet we know not why,
But some day we will know and understand.
Why should we hate and crucify each other
Because we are not all alike?
What a dull world this would be
If we were all the same, clones of each other,
In color, gender, creed, and preferences.
Would we not then abuse and curse each other
Because we were so bored with all the sameness?
Dark or light, tall or short,
Gay or straight -
God made us, every one.
He loves us all just as we are.
Who are we to question his omnipotence?
photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash
by Lucy M. Young
When I reluctantly awake
And glaring sunlight blinds my eyes,
I know I'll somehow meet the day -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
There is so much I need to do;
I'd like to cleverly devise
A neat way out, but I'll do my best -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
The laundry waits, the dishes too,
And dinner I must improvise;
It seems too much but I'll work things out -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
When Gabriel blows that golden horn
And we must break our earthly ties,
I'll be there with my load of sin -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
photo by Jeffrey Hamilton on Unsplash
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 