Speaks To Me of His Grace

I try have a pen and paper with me close at hand because I never know when a word or a line or thought might become inspiring. So there I was in church last week and quickly wrote down what turned into the title and last line of this poem. I will probably send it to Fr. Mike just to encourage him that sometimes we really are listening.

 

 

 

 

Speaks To Me of Your Grace

 

I open my eyes in the still darkened room

able to detect the time on my arm

by the light of my phone.

Already I have experienced

four reasons for thanksgiving,

my sight, my watch, my phone and my life.

Yet, they have gone by accepted without gratitude.

Perhaps you might say that this proclamation

is taking things to the point of absurdity.

But, if my sight left, my watch broke,

my phone was lost and my breath shortened

would I be so casual then?

I want to develop such a sense, a habit of gratitude

that even the most ordinary thing

speaks to me of his grace.

 

Diantha Zschoche 10/13

 

 

 

 

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