There is no easy path, from here.
There is adventure, blessings rich;
Heartache, labor, uncertainty,
Detours maybe, but no going back.
If we were still children, we’d be home by now.
But for us home is a tabernacle,
now gently tied,
now violently clinging, now folded and creased
For the road to the next level place.
We follow the cloud, the fire that makes
each landscape real.
Sometimes as it pauses, we forget it is there;
Sometimes we run to keep in step.
We only know: we won’t be lost.
There are no perfect solutions, yet;
But we walk along a path of perfecting.
So we pray:
Give us what we want,
Give us to know what we want,
Give us our wants, until we are only
Enveloped in the center stream
Of your will.
Teach us to trust you are already there
In the campsites and in the City
That are ours, already, but that we can’t quite see
From here.
Shared by consent of the author: Rebecca Faith Carhart