Lost Poem

For the past few weeks we've been slowly getting settled into our new home, finding places for things, filling up the nooks and crannies, and starting to let go of a lot of stuff that we've been carting around for the past few years. This has required a little bit of spring cleaning on my behalf, going through a number of boxes that always remain in storage. This is always a daunting task, but is usually holds a few surprises, this following poem being one of them.

I wrote this poem before I had any kind of relationship with God; while I was living in a way that was completely against what God desired for me, hurting myself physically and emotionally. It amazes me to read it, because, though childish, I seemed to have an idea of what "God" was like.

God's Hands
written by the Grade 11 version of Chelsey

God's large hand
cradles me
with wrinkled grip.

God's large hand
holds me tight
until harm is absent.

God's large hand
writes with chalk
before me.

God's large hand
gently nudges
resisting my objection.

God's large hand
offers a haven
of security.

God's large hand
becomes soaked with tears
but never lets go.

As I read that poem I was taken back to the very moment I wrote it; I can remember exactly how I felt, I can remember exactly how I thought about it, I can remember exactly the look on my face. Looking back, I see it as one of those moments where God connected with me, seemingly out of no where, as He lead me toward Him.

As people ask us how the new place is and how we're settling in, I've commented that we are "unpacking our lives". When I discovered this lost poem, I realized that it was really true.

(ha, how cheesy is that!)