Faith

---

O'Lord,
heal me,
for my
bones
are troubled.
My soul
also
is greatly
troubled.
[Psalm 6:2-3]
******************
"I feel like a
left-over,
Lord."

[PATIENT VOICE.]
"I know,
My precious."

(Shrug.)
"Yeah;
I'm kind'a like...
that one HOTDOG,
at the back of
the frigerator,
that's left over
from a Wednesday
beans-and-frank-
night:
wrapped up in
a piece a'ole
tin foil.....
that's startin'
to get a little
a' MOLD on it..?"

[CALM NOD.]

"And......
the owner...
never seems
to be in the
mood, for
cleanin' out
the FRIDGE."

[PATIENT NOD.]

"So,
the HOTDOG...
just SITS there:
gettin' older-n-
MOLDIER.."

[PATIENT GAZE.]
"Yes,
My child."

(Woeful sigh.)
"Nobody
WANTS it,
anymore;
they're just
too lazy, to
throw it OUT."

[CHUCKLE.]

(Squint at the ceiling.)
"Why are
You LAUGHING;
LORD?"

[CHUCKLING.]
"Because,
My child."
[WISE LOOK.]
"Perhaps...
the Owner
is just waiting
for it..."

(Squint curiously,
up at the ceiling.)
"..To WHAT?"

[SMILE!]
"...To turn..
into
penicillin."
********************
You have
turned
for me
my mourning
into
dancing;
You have
put off
my sackcloth
and
clothed me
with gladness.
[Psalms 30:11]

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE