In prayer some years back,
I had a picture of me—
A small straw,
Flowing a small bit
Of Christ’s love
Around me.
When I told God I was angry,
That he should want me
To be a bigger
Conduit of his grace,
He said, You won't make it
Without
more of me first.
I could hear that.
That I was, perhaps,
More tired and broken
Than I realized,
In need of some times of refreshing
That come from the Lord.
I wrote that note,
Soon buried in the detritus of life.
Finding it again at long last,
I have a new hope
That the time is coming
Soon.
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