Familiar Touch

A child who has been raised with love, Will recognize the touch. There will be no confusing her when She's approached by another kind. I was one of those lucky children Reared in a loving home. My parents and four big brothers were, My teachers and protectors. I knew nothing of deceit or guile In those, my formative years. Surrounded by love, as I was I knew its shape and form. When I was released to school and the world, I had my protective shield, To carry me safely past Webs of fabrication, spun by a stranger’s lies. The small country church I attended And in which I was baptized Introduced me to my Savior And to His healing touch. Touched at a young age by His saving grace, I missed the many pathways That could have led me from The straight and narrow road. The only way that I could pay it back Is making sure my children and their own Were loved with that same loving touch And could learn to recognize it anywhere. tneth place in touched contest My little country church filled with purest love, was in a small community of "Church of the Brethren" good folks. My daddy of "Pennsylvania Dutch" heritage came on an immigrant train to North Dakota to settle in a community they named "Zion" and to build their little church.