LETTER TO MY LORD



I love you Lord, with all my heart;
My very being, every part.
I dedicate myself anew, for your guidance, and insight, for your review.

I don’t know why I can’t perform to the highest standards of the “norm”.
I want to please you Lord, it’s true ,
In all the things I say and do.

But trying and failing, many times as I do,
Seems to be a never-ending pattern,
That leads me back to you.

As long as my path leads back to You, and you accept me with your grace and love,
I feel I can keep on trying again, each time I fail and wind up flat on my face, at love.

I love you Lord, and as I struggle to learn more of your purpose and meaning in my life,
I’ve come to conclude that it’s not meant for me;
The role of a wife, settled so inanimately.

I love you Lord, and yet you know, that without you, I am not made whole.
No matter what time and activity I create, no matter how full I fill my plate,
The best in me is yet to come, when I hear my Lord say, “Come on home, job well done”.

I love you Lord, but I am weak; weak in the flesh, spirit not mild and meek.
But I know if I but keep on studying your words of love and wisdom, that even I can make it through, this world where everyday starts anew.

I’ll keep on trying Lord, and yes, failing, but getting up again.
As long as you can see fit to love me back, my best as filthy rags to you,
I cling to them, irreverently, as I look on your face, as serene as can be.

Please, my Lord, don’t let me go, unsheltered and unprotected.
I depend on You for my daily bread, and the crumbs from beneath your table are like fine cuisine to me.
I am not worthy Lord, of You; no one can convince me of that.
And yet you love me, and even died for me, to cover my sins on Calvary.

There is nothing I can do that would make a difference, in what you did for me;
And yet I keep trying to perfect this life, as if I’ll have time, before it flees.

I am not worthy Lord to drink the drops of blood from the sand beneath your feet, and yet You extend your nail-scarred hands to me, and tell me that You are able,
To love me, just the way I am, before I am perfected,
So come to Your table.
And though I fell I must keep trying, all my best has already been rejected, and dying.

Because you see, my Lord, it’s true , I know it deep within my heart;
Why I have, and what I will do, is not important, more so, what I didn’t and what You will for me.
Because my Lord, it’s not about me, it’s about what You have done for me, and how You, My Lord, were scorned and rejected, and yet you thought of me.