The diesel engine clattered and clanked as I bumped and bounced
down the dusty dirt road on the way to a job…a job out in the country far away
from all the people, the traffic, and the hustle and bustle of the city.
I thought to myself what a great job have I. Working with stuff not people. Electrical stuff…mechanical stuff…working
with stuff requires no social shills. Stuff does not talk back; stuff does not bleed
out and die. Well, some times it
dies but you just replace it.
I don’t like dealing with people and their problems. I have not the patience nor the social
skills and no desire to interact with crazy people.
Then I thought of God…God and his job. What a terrible job. He has to take care of all the
peoples. He has to deal with all
the people who will not listen, who will not follow instructions, and who
refuse to do what is in their own best interest. The hardest part of his job is that he chooses to love them…love
us. He loves all of us…crazy or
not.
So…thank you, God, for giving me the skills to do this job,
a job I like. And thank you for always
taking care of me.
Dear Lord God,
Often times when things turn crappy
I think of You and it makes me happy.
So now I'll spend a bit of time
To make for You a foolish rhyme.
Sometimes I pretend I’m a saint
But you, Lord, know a saint I ain’t.
I can’t repay the debt I owe
For this I'm for sure You truly know.
So I offer up this meager prayer
Knowing that it isn’t fair.
All You’ve done and given me.
And never once have charged a fee.
Amen.
