Part of the Gift
by Ruth Harms Calkin
I heard today
Of a decrepit native woman
Who walked mile after mile
Under the blistering sun
To bring a small gift of embroidery
To the missionary she deeply loved.
Hour after hour she trudged
Over rough, rugged roads
Clutching tightly her small gift.
Her weary body sagged
Her vision blurred
Her bare feet bled fromt he jagged rocks.
Grateful but overwhelmed
The missionary wept
The trembling old woman spoke softly:
“Please understand.
The walk is part of the gift.”
My Lord
My commitment to You is for life.
I give myself to You unreservedly
To do with me as You please.
But may I not forget
That the tears, the fears
The strain and the pain
The sunless days
The starless nights
Are all a part of the whole.
In my total commitment
I give full consent:
The walk is part of the gift.
Powerful. I’m tearing up. Truly my walk is part of the gift, since “all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.” (Isaiah 64-6) I don’t have anything to give, but this life. 🙂
for sharing this wonderful short story. This reaches so deep inside me, i hope you don’t mind if i copy and share this. I tend to lose focus so easily, along with many others, i’m sure. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Robin
Thanks for sharing this lovely and most though provoking poem – I was blessed.
Hey Julie I understand the frustration. I think I have been struggling for weeks to set this blog up. The struggle within mostly, being a perfectionist I hated to start something I might not be able to keep up with or that doesn't make sense. Anyway let me know what you think?
Lisa E.
Edited by CrackedPot on May. 7, 2006 at 4:49 PM