As I travel the twisted road of life leaving a
breadcrumb trail of words…scribbled words that document my thoughts…it occurs
to me how insignificant I am and how little my actions contribute to the Gross National
Product or the overall advancement of mankind.
Perhaps these words are more like piles of
droppings that mark my passing. I
wrestle with my inadequacies, incompetence and ineptitude…my faults, failings
and foibles. The only conclusion I
keep coming back to is that; if I can’t do great things…then perhaps I should
be content doing little things with great care…with great love.
Dear Lord Jesus
Sometimes I think the words just stink
But it’s words that put me in the pink
Your wisdom hidden within the smell
Always turns out so very well
I’m not for going to hell and roast
To some it’s compost, but not for most
You’re the Host that we must toast
Thank you Father, Son and Holy Ghost
Amen.
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