Saturday, September 12, 2009

The Broom



Thank you, God.
For my place.
Under your great and gracious skies.
For a house, a tree, a swing.
For beauty that is small and precious.

I praise You,
For You are the Giver
Of all good things.

You bring into my life
Each day,
A task that is as humble as a broom.
You say--Sweep!

There is a friend to be listened to...
A card to be sent,
A home to be cared for.

Sometimes,
I sweep dust
Into my own face.
I could just cry.
I feel so clumsy, so ordinary,
So unfit for Your Holy calling.

But when I get tired
You take away my broom,
And You sit me down
On a bench,
For a drink of lemonade.

I realize that I haven't minded the job.
There are golden glints in the straw.

Soon, I'm ready to sweep again.
With hands that are more tender
And a heart that is more willing to be taught.

I praise You, Lord,
Suffering servant, and victorious King,
For the privilege of taking
Even one stroke...
With my broom.

~Anon.

Why I am taking a blogging break...
image from Big Stock Photo