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Please don’t hurt me, I said to the man with a knife,
As I lay on the table where I feared for my life.
For just two weeks earlier I had been all cut up,
He said please hold still and do not interrupt.
This story had started from the day of my birth.
My feet not on straight had diminished my worth.
So they started at two weeks with braces and plaster,
For the next sixteen years it seems they were the master.
From surgery to surgery and pins in my knees,
They’d tell me I’m fixed but it was only a tease.
There was always another in a year two or three,
It wasn’t till late teens that I finally was free.
As I lay on that table to get the stitches cut out.
I had known first hand what real pain was about.
There was fear in my eyes and a pain in my gut.
As I stared at the doctor who was starting to cut.
I know there’s a purpose and its part of Gods plan.
That I tell all today who allows me to stand.
Who gives me the strength to walk without aid,
For I know that through Him my body was made.
I am now in my mid life and arthritis makes way.
We have two grown children and I just have to say.
As I look toward the future I no longer have fear.
For through all life’s struggles I know Christ is near.
In real life each one has a story to tell.
Whether good or so bad, they know it so well.
How each one responds to the trials and pain,
Will determine in life whether loss or pure gain.
So I give you my story and I tell you my tale.
With Christ as my Savior, I can see where the nail.
Pierced through His hand to make everyone free,
And not once did my Savior, say “Please Don’t Hurt Me.”
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