Poetry
The Seeds He Sowed 9/29/08
The many life experiences
That all seemed to be for naught,
Are the backbone of the story
That this blessed life has wrought.
What started out so bleak and dark
Turned out blacker still,
Became to be known in the end
As God's own holy will.
Suicidal thoughts and hate
Were where it all began,
And alcohol and drugs
Were more precious to me than
A relationship, a home,
A child, a job, or paying bills.
Through my foggy mind I could not
See all my mental ills
And the threat I posed to myself
And others just as well.
But my precious Jesus Christ
Would to me one day tell
Of His grand scheme of things,
And why He let me survive.
I had resented His
Interference, being alive,
But when He met me in that pew
And dragged me to the altar,
I knew that He had chosen me
And I must not falter.
He drew me to His breast and said,
"My child, I've been waiting for you,"
And the tears I cried that morning
Felt like the mourning dew.
I grieved the life I'd led 'til now,
Of greed and selfishness,
As my Lord stood in front of me
In all His holiness.
I'd never known a love like this,
A heart so understanding.
He'd been calling all along,
But never been demanding.
It was a few days before
My birthday, a day I hated
Most. But this became my real one,
Now to God related.
I asked for His forgiveness
For the sinner I'd become,
And acknowledged all His glory
As my Savior and the Son.
When I knew that He'd forgiven me,
The pain all flushed away,
Leaving me feeling pure,
Knowing Jesus was here to stay.
Then a softness flooded
Over me, joy so sublime,
That has only grown greater
With my Jesus over time.
I know the Lord has led me
Down a darkened path for His good.
He knew that I would use it
To help the lost if it could.
There are so many ways that I
Can relate to others in need,
And He sends them right to my door
So I might plant a seed.
They know I am but another
Pilgrim, here upon this earth,
To be Jesus' hands and feet
And tell them of their worth.
He's blessed me with a gentle touch
And patience overflowing,
So I can plow His fields of stone
And keep ever sowing.
Copyright 2008 by Brenda LaVelle
Always, in all ways, to God the honor and glory!
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How beautiful, one day others that are out there in the muck and mire will come to know Him and His saving grace . Keep planting !
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