This Child of Yours

Oh Lord, this child of yours often forgets who you truly are... forgets to believe in all that you are. You are the Master... I am the student. Show me all the gracious wonders Thou didst create. The dove gently cooing acts as a soothing balm upon my presently unsteady nerves. "Why do you worry about the morrow, when you can be at peace today?" The Lord says to me. The light wind that blows through my hair, reminds me of finger-tips gently caressing me there like a Father's reassuring touch when all of that is of 'the world' seems so bad. When a Harris Hawk lands upon the adobe bricked wall, I am reminded to be humble, that I never need to be proud, because quietness in one's demeanor can speak ever so powerfully, ever so loud. The little church upon the hill rejoices when the bells inside its steeple ring aloud, as the increasing wind stirs them well, bringing them to life. Yes, I do know that this unearthly song was love, love meant for my heart, given to me in the form of the most holy of melodies. Once again my mind, my soul, my being become at ease with all that You are to me, knowing that I am fearfully and wonderfully made by your hands, that you created me, will always bear me up to keep me safe from this poisoned world, but even more so from my self-defeating doubts. by S.E. Clark