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 from the 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 painThe sunless days
The starless nights
Are all part of the whole.
In my total commitment
I give full consent:
The walk is part of the gift.
~Ruth Harms Calkin
HT: http://www.windscraps.blogspot.com/
