If you do not write/
then how can His messages/
be delivered true?
OR
If I do not write,
then how can His messages,
which He tasked me with sharing,
be delivered by me?
They can’t,
and won’t.
They must be given
to someone else
who will do
as He asks.
I drive
past palm trees
and mangrove swamps
and sawgrass
and waterways
and gators,
by divine request
to kibbitz
with an old man,
church friends of mine’s father,
to bring him
home-canned plums in apple juice
and love
and blessings to a blind man,
that he may see again
his daughter’s devotion.
I’m sent by divine decree.
The thought came to me,
suddenly, surprisingly,
certainly,
directly.
So why do I fear?
Why am I nervous?
Why do I feel silly?
My big heart
can carry the message
God wants it to bring.