Dear Heavenly Father,
This is how my sickness makes me feel:
Useless, spent, painful rusty, tired piece of nothing, empty, trash.
This is how Your Son makes me feel:
Backhoeing-fit to bury despair, full throttle, bulldozing praise to You
A-okay, can-do hope
Headed for New Jerusalem on a full-tank of Your Spirit
Re-fueled at the Cross
Road out of Egypt
Through this desert wilderness
Prayer-driven, Red Sea-partin’ song-singing,
Following the signs in Your Word
Telling me Your steadfast love will never fail
‘Cause look at me!
I’m not a piece of junk:
Not when I’m on the road
To You.
Dreams from a Pilgrimage 
This is how my sickness makes me feel:
Useless, spent, painful rusty, tired piece of nothing, empty, trash I think many people feel this way when they are ill and find solace wherever they can. Lovely prayer.
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JD, Lovely prayer. Illness can make you feel spent. Prayer can lift your spirits. Well written. 🙂 — Susan
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Very nice! Full of hope.
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Dear JD
Heartfelt and lovely.
shalom,
Rochelle
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Wallie really likes this poem. 🙂 My friend is translating it into Impish so that he can share it with his friends abroad!
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Thank you, Wallie – Too bad I can’t read “Impish”! 🙂
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