As I paddle my way on this sea we call life

With all its possibilities and potential

Where often times I feel toss and turn by raging storms of discord and discontent

These hands of flesh that hold the oar

Gets tired and long for repose

My paddle I often think...I must lay down.

Sometimes with anger but most times with a sigh

Feeling that this boat I can no longer steer

And it… I must abandon

yet, somewhere beyond the fatigue and lassitude I realize

The ship I cannot abandon no matter how rough sea

The strength I must find and so I persevere

In those moments of weariness and doubt

A gentle presence is felt

As if, another has taken my hands

And my oar and boat have gained momentum

A second wind…if you will

I can feel myself gently gliding

Like a gazelle or an eagle taking flight

And so I inhale and I exhale

And I am reminded...ever so gentle

 All… is God’s care