fruit for the sowing (a poem)


So many voices
each offering advice:
What they think is right,
perhaps holy.

The heart hitches on some
and lets others wisp by,
all the while praying for
something solid.

Something sure and trustworthy
a route, though it leave callouses on my heart,
that will bear fruit for the sowing.

Because his eager mind
and malleable heart
are my work,
To teach,
To sculpt,
To nourish.

Along the way,
I will speak words of life
for the Great Sculptor to use;
Watering his heart with the Word,
planting seeds
as we dance barefoot on the carpet,
the morning light aglow,
and sing with joy to the Lord.

As he grows,
may God bless the joyful toil,
the gentle correction,
the fluffy blanket cuddles,
the tender moments,
and draw my dear boy to Himself.

May he someday depart
with beautiful feet and
helpful hands,
a brilliant light
in a dark world,
and live only for the King.

A little poetry interruption doesn’t mean that I’m finished sharing our story! Check back next Tuesday for Part 3.

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