Shaving In the Dark

Shaving In The Dark Blood on my face. A wound from shaving in the dark. A scar from an angry battle with my soul. This is how the story goes. A simple question from my little girl. A question of the things of life. A chance for hope. A chance to share some wisdom to help her cope. I chose to set things right, to fill the air with words of strife. How some people aren't very nice all the while hiding my own vice. I spoke of evils, but not my own. I chose to let her walk alone. Plunging into the darkest cold I left her in the wilderness to roam. In my pride I ranted on until finally I was done. Feeling smug with my vain words as the world struggled on. Killing and hatred was the score of my miserable symphony. All hope was lost as the war continued on in the shallow pursuit of my own gain. I had given sorrow the upper hand instead of words she could understand. But my daughter set me straight with words of a simple faith. With a song in a voice so sweet she set the world back on its feet. "Jesus loves the little children. All the children of the world. Red, yellow, black, and white they are precious in his sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world." With her faith she set me right and showed me just where I stood. A man with blood on his face from shaving in the dark. "Jesus Loves The Little Children" C. Herbert Woolston, George F. Root.