21 April 2011

Imperfect by design

The skies can not decide on sun or clouds. My body tries to choose health over infirmity and wanting air, I step out into a breeze warmer than I expected. I hear the noise of birds just arrived, filling the trees around the yard, but my presence keeps them hidden.

There is new life hidden in ground also.  And life hidden in every heart.

This is the night our Savior struggled in the garden, wanting to chart new course, choose a different road, but always coming back to "Not my will, but Yours be done."

In that surrender, that choice to die, seeds of life scattered, planted for all, planted for one.

Make me fertile ground, Lord God, unworthy of Your sacrifice, but willing...



for more words by those imperfect but blessed stop by Emily's


4 comments:

Kit said...

unworthy, but willing...I love that phrase. thanks for sharing this.

Craig said...

I linked up at Emily's too - because I wrote an Easter poem I really heart. But I didn't come from there - just came by to read you - and this is so simple and yet so profound - thank you - capped off with this prayer at the end,"In that surrender, that choice to die, seeds of life scattered, planted for all, planted for one. Make me fertile ground, Lord God, unworthy of Your sacrifice, but willing..." it made me silent - thank you. God bless!!!

p.s. I hearted it so much I repeated it to him - for myself - just now.

emily wierenga said...

i love your heart. i love these words. they are a tender, exquisite prayer...

Joybird said...

Make me fertile ground, yes, I need this, but I hate the tilling and the fertilizer, I wish I was just naturally rich loam. But He's the gardener, He knows what He is doing. And FF (or is it FFFF?) I like your picture of nature in messy glory.

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