Day of Rest
On Monday, I rise, and head back to work,
Greet all with a smile, and no duty shirk.
At lunch, someone seeks some gossip to share.
I ask what is said when I am not there.
On Tuesday's drive home, I see a car stalled,
And stop to find out if help has been called.
She borrows my phone to call for a tow.
I wave off the bills she tries to bestow.
On Wednesday, I stop to buy milk and bread.
The brand new cashier looks stricken with dread.
She makes a mistake. I say "It's okay,
We all make mistakes." Her smile makes my day.
On Thursday, a friend who's grieving stops by.
I make us some tea. We pray and we cry.
I give her a hug, reminding, one day,
In heaven our tears are all wiped away.
On Friday, I stop, my neighbor to see,
She's down with the flu, this mother of three.
I simmer some soup, once kids are all fed,
And play for a while, then put them to bed.
On Saturday morn, my caller ID,
A number displays, I'd rather not see,
I help Grandma shop, and errands complete,
While listening to her stories repeat.
On Sunday, at church, the doors I walk through,
My pulpit depart, and sit in a pew.
My spirit's refreshed, renewed by the Word,
For sermons lived out for those who've not heard.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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