Words

I have been through fire and thoroughly singed, the flames of hell licked my feet, but God lifted and set me in a clear running creek of cool sweet water. The pit was dug and I was thrown in. The top closed and darkness smothered me, but air, fresh as morning, filled my nostrils. He came, sat beside me and set me free. Weeds grew and choked the blossoms. I plucked and prodded; the roots dug deeper. He led me away and gave me rest where the ferns grew tall and green. Words like weeds are strong and hardy, finding root in every type of soil. But tender words can change the earth, score rich, soft and greedy for the seed.