Poem May 3, 2004 Issue

In my Father's time

Danielle Perkins

Anxious,
praying
destitute
in spirit,
begging for
my Father's time,
unable to find
reason or rhyme
why the answers
took forever.
Waiting, watching,
losing hope,
praying
ever harder,
in my blindness
never seeing
the meal
in the Father's
larder,
ever mourning
all I'd lost,
and worse yet,
finally believing
that the rewards
and blessings
would come
never.
Then just as hope
seemed long gone
and despair
ever more certain,
the Father
gently
took my hand,
and lifted
my dark curtain. Blinding sunlight
met my eyes,
a feast upon
His table,
His hand in mine,
my heart so full,
and rewards
grander, bigger, sweeter,
than I could ever
reap them.
O lo the answers
came at last,
the blessings
far greater
than I'd prayed for,
His love shining
ever bright
just as it always
had been.
And I saw
with some embarrassment
that I had been
a frightened child
demanding evidence
before I was ready
to receive it.
While all the while
the Father worked
His purpose out,
coming slowly
through the mists,
ever sure and steady.
His hand beneath,
His heart in mine,
a Father I could always
rely on.
The precious lesson
learned at last,
among these many
blessings,
His love so sure,
His heart so vast,
His will so kind,
His generosity
without measure,
the lesson I had been
meant to learn
was simply
In my Father's time.
Not mine.
His timing infinitely
perfect,
My gratitude
is
boundless.