Father, forgive me.
I'm so tired of constant pain and weakness,
Trying to accept it without question,
Striving to be grateful for what I'm capable of doing
And wish for nothing more.
But, Father, there is so much to be done
And I've no strength to do it.
Pain rules my life and everything I do.
I want to work,
I want to put my house and life in order,
But pain and weakness force inaction on me.
My faith is weakening.
Forgive me, Father.
Strengthen me.
Help me to overcome the things that drag me down -
Self-pity, doubt, ineptitude and anger at my lot in life.
Hold me up.
Help me forget myself completely and ignore my pain.
Forgive my weakness and despair.
Guide my faltering footsteps through this day.
Eliminate my doubt,
And fill my heart with gratitude for Your unfailing love.
Gloria, a very dangerous hurricane, is moving up the coast,
Leaving panic and widespread destruction in her path.
It is so quiet here -
The night is calm, no breeze is stirring -
It's difficult to realize that only hours away this vicious
storm approaches,
Uprooting trees and flattening man-made structures.
Dear Lord, watch over us we pray.
Protect the birds and all Your little creatures.
Keep safe their homes and ours;
And just as You controlled the wind and waves on Galilee,
So, Lord, control the fierceness of this storm.
Alter her course and send her screaming out to sea
Away from land and people.
Let her vent her rage upon the open ocean
Where nothing no one can be harmed;
And soothe her mindless fury with Your quiet voice.
I have so many treasures, Lord,
I scarce know where to start to name them all.
I have the wide, blue sky, the stars and moon at night,
Sunrise and glowing sunset.
I have the fresh, clean air to breathe,
And water, pure and sweet, to quench my thirst;
Cooling breezes and refreshing rain,
The fragrance and the splendor of the flowers;
The shade and towering beauty of the trees;
The happy songs of birds;
The bounty of my garden;
The sweetness of the peaches in my little orchard;
The comfort of a kitten purring softly on my pillow;
And I have love -
The love of friends and family and gentle pets;
But best of all, Lord, Your eternal love which never fails.
It guides, upholds and strengthens me each day.
It is the greatest treasure of them all.
Dear Lord, You have given me so much,
So little I've given to You;
But I had so little material wealth
I didn't know what I could do.
Then I remembered what You once said
To the people so long ago,
"Whatever you do for the least of these
You do for me also."
Well, Lord, I have plenty of love to give.
I can reach out a helping hand,
Give a friendly smile, or a pat on the back
To show them that I understand.
I can hold someone stricken with grief to my heart
And pray that my love may console;
Give friendship, companionship, sympathy,
To some lonely suffering soul.
Lord, grant that I always may see the need
Of a stranger a friend or a foe;
And show me how best I may help them along
That their hearts more joy may know.
September with its various activities was my favorite month:
Going back to school with eagerness, anticipation and a little trepidation;
The smell of books and chalks and pencils;
Goldenrod along the roadsides;
Warm delightful days and cool crisp nights;
Stopping on the way from school at the potato field
Where father had been working all day long
Digging the winter store of white potatoes,
While the waiting horses stamped and neighed,
Impatient for their warm dry stalls
And their nightly ration of water, oats and hay;
Riding home on a lumpy wagon load of bagged potatoes;
Listening as they rolled and tumbled, rumbling into the waiting bin
beneath the cellar window;
Gathering apples red-cheeked, crisp and juicy
To eat with popcorn on long winter evenings while mother read aloud
our favorite books;
Bringing succulent plums - yellow, red and blue,
To mother to preserve for winter use;
Stepping from the chilly air into the steamy, lamplit kitchen
Redolent with the spicy smell of pickles simmering on the
old black iron woodstove.
For supper there were baked sweet apples,
Mother's luscious brown bread,
And sweet fresh milk from our own Jersey cows;
Or hot soup from the last tomatoes in the garden,
With crusty home-made bread, hot from the oven,
Drenched with father's golden dairy butter.
And there were those lovely, lazy Saturdays -
Blue haze on the mountains,
A tapestry of red and gold and bronze spread across the countryside;
Clean air fragrant with the scent of frost-touched grass
and burning leaves.
Those were the days.
Nothing can ever be so perfect as those happy, youthful days
in retrospect.
There must have been cold, gloomy, rainy days of grumbling discontent,
But they have been forgotten,
Obliterated by the kindly hand of Time.
Recalling those lovely days of yesteryear I shed a tear or two
of longing
For that long-lost past when I was young and life was good.
I breathe a prayer of thankfulness, however,
For these memories of home and loving parents;
And bless the Lord for giving me the golden opportunity
To live those joyous carefree days of yore.
A new little girl has come into the world,
A new little treasure to hold;
To love and cherish, guide and protect,
A gift more precious than gold.
Who knows what talents lie hidden behind
That sweet little baby face;
What miracles those tiny hands may perform,
What troubles her life may erase?
Those little feet have a long road ahead.
As she travels that road day by day,
May her parents love and God's saving grace
Keep her safe and secure all the way.
My body may be handicapped
But my mind and heart are free,
And my spirit leads me outward
Where my heart most longs to be.
I soar with the astronauts
In weightless carefree joy,
The stars my sparkling neighbors,
The moon a bright new toy.
I roam through fields of clover
And drink from mountain streams;
Reality's so dull beside
The splendor of my dreams.
They lead me through the velvet night
Where moonglow lights my way,
From the vivid glow of sunset
To the rosy dawn of day.
With the wind and rain for playmates
My gypsy heart roams free,
From stately stands of virgin pine
To the wind caves by the sea.
O'er the burning sands of the desert
And the Northland's ice and snow,
In the rushing roar of the ocean,
Great peace and joy I know.
But I must needs return to earth,
To my crutches and my pain;
'Til my spirit leads me outward
To freedom once again.
Dear Lord, what do You have in mind for me to do? What menial task, What act of love or sacrifice is in Your plan for me? I’m tired of the daily round of meaningless activities. I need a reason for existence, a goal to strive for. Give me, Lord, a dream, And strength to work toward its completion. It needn’t be a great earth-shattering project – Just help me feel my life is not in vain. If nothing else, Lord, let me be a good example of usefulness in spite of handicap, And cheerfulness despite whatever pain may fill my waking hours; Then when at night my body cries for rest, I pray that You may feel I’ve done my best Your purpose to fulfill; And then, Lord, grant me peaceful sleep And quiet happy dreams throughout the night.
What do you do when love has gone
And your life seems barren and cold,
When the plans you made and the dreams you shared
Your heart no longer may hold;
When hope and joy have been cast aside
And despair is your constant companion,
When it seems there is nothing worth living for
And you long for a quiet communion
With someone who really can sympathize,
Who can quietly understand
And fill up the void where love once dwelt
With the warmth of a friendly hand?
Well, you hold up your head and you put on a smile
And you walk with your shoulders thrown back;
Just whistle a tune and before very long
You'll be feeling the warmth you now lack.
You'll find it, you know, if you really try -
God never meant us to be sad.
With a smile on your face and a song in your heart
That is real, soon your heart will be glad.
Father, You know my dearest wish -
To walk in comfort, free of the pain that holds me in its grasp.
You know how much I've prayed for sweet release -
At first with faith in quick deliverance,
Later with hope,
Hardly daring to believe I could be freed.
At times I've been so angry with You, Lord.
Forgive me.
I've wept in my despair and tried to bargain;
But now my tears are dried I am resigned -
Your will be done;
And if it be my lot in life to live with pain
So be it,
Only grant me strength to bear it with a smile,
And quietly without complaint accept my cross.
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 