BLESSED FRIDAY POEM

 Dear Friends,

 Today is  known as Good Friday. It is GOOD because our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ, gave himself as the final and perfect sacrifice to expunge the sins of any who would put their trust in him. Since the word, good, has lost much of its meaning in our society, I am taking the liberty today of calling this "Blessed Friday".

This morning, as I sat with my cup of tea and my journal, I began thanking Jesus for all the grace and mercy he has extended to me throughout my life. Many times I've taken wrong turns and made bad choices. I, and others, have paid the consequences of those choices throughout the years. I try to not think of how my life would have been different if I'd walked in step with Creator always and never strayed. Regret is a destructive emotion and thought pattern.

This little poem grew out of my time in my journal, pouring out my heart to my Lord this Blessed Friday morning.

My Little Garden

I have a little garden, but I could’ve had a field. That’s not what You say; it’s what I tell myself.

I don’t know much about gardening, but you don’t seem to mind. You teach me as much as I’m willing to learn.

Weeds keep popping up. I don’t know how they get there, but you’ve shown me how to cast them quickly to the fire.

My seedlings are rather pathetic. I try to not compare them to the flourishing gardens of my peers, but you know I often do.

 “Look to me,” you smile, “I have different plants for you.”

And so I go on, planting and watering, and trying to not compare. While you point out my progress and tell me that you’re proud.

 Me and my little garden. You don’t mind that it’s so small. We’re tending it together. And that’s your favourite thing of all.

 

Blessings to you and yours on this Blessed Day,

Teresa