Small Strokes

The Wind

Nothing was the same after the wind changed

It came out from nowhere and left us all estranged

Bent, broken and stretched

It took us to a place so far-fetched

Is anything ever the same

After playing this life game?

Many say no

But we learn as we grow

We never win 

By fighting against the wind

Rather, if we bend

We will truly win in the end

For when the East wind comes

We sill surely become

More like our Father's daughters and sons

So let the wind stretch, move and bend you

As you become new

In all the seasons You're allowed to go through

Hand Reaching Out

Hem of His Garment

One....two.... now three

This might be the death of me

For my disgrace is too great to bear

Why isn't my life fair?

I'm tired of being the target

If only I could touch the Hem of His Garment

For I truly felt His power

Cleanse me through like a shower

It gave me much freedom

As if I was a cup bearer to His Kingdom

For I gathered the grain of His harvest

Just by touching the Hem of His Garment

Oh, could it be

That You would be searching for me?

Exposed and seen like never before

To be accepted and fully restored

I was not rejected by my artist

But rather, noticed....

When I touched the Hem of His Garment

When His Wheat Becomes Bread....

Looking and mapping

Plowing and planting

It's time to entrust

Before we return to dust

May these seeds

Truly feed

For one day

Just maybe 

This wheat will become bread

Excited to see

Just beyond the oak tree

Growth all around

For this is heaven bound

Taking inventory

All for Your Glory

For there's great hope

That one day

This wheat will become bread

Walking along the field

Listening as I yield

You whisper to me

All the things You've allowed to be

For each seed planted

You never took for granted

For days

You developed

This wheat indeed became bread