God set my pot upon a stove
And turned the flame up high,
To see if I would take the heat
Or Him, my Lord, deny.
I planned my day down to a tee
The schedule was set.
An ordered life I do prefer
But havenít had one yet!
At first it was the telephone
That caused my peace to flee;
Those interruptions drove me mad
Iím warming up, you see.
At last a chance to get to work
Between incessant calls
Then to the door, the landlord came
I thought Iíd climb the walls.
ďJust passing by,Ē was his reply
When to the door I went.
ďI wondered if youíd please explain
What happened to the rent?Ē
I failed to understand the need,
And felt my temper rise,
Why should my time be thus misspent
To explain the bankís demise?
When peace once more began to reign
I back to work did go
The temperature still going up
My laptop chose to slow.
The manual could not be found
Not anywhere in sight
No matter where I searched for it
Or yelled with all my might.
With water boiling up and out
The pot red hot, you see
I'm almost ready to explode
A thought occurred that made me pause.
Perhaps I need to stop
And think about the foolishness
Iím cooking in this pot.
It wasnít very long ago
I asked the Lord to bless
And bring into this day His will,
His plan, His good, His best.
Now here I am, at pressure point
The lidís about to pop,
Considering my perfect plan
Not His to cause to stop.
The work Iíd planned to do was good,
But His was better yet.
The calls that came were His calls
Those needs now left unmet.
His real question quite ignored
The landlord didnít ask
He read my stance, my shortened phrase
And stayed behind his mask.
As I was fuming in my heart,
Wishing him to leave.
He longed to know the way to God
The joy of His reprieve.
Blinded by angerís boiling steam
I didnít see the need.
I only though about myself,
Now late Godís call to heed.
The pot sits blackened on the stove
The flame not even low.
I feel no anger, only shame
To have denied Him so.
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