My Race

My life has a limp and I shuffle along— swift and graceful as a turtle. Other lives have limbs built for speed and run majestically like cheetahs. My heart loathes to lose, but my head is in the game— I will limp on for You, and when I do, I only seem to lose.

Mountain Moving

The mountains stand so tall— rugged rock against the sky. And You ask me to move them—why? You know my hands are small— they bruise and break and bleed with every strategy I try. And the mountains stand, unmoved. I have no mustard seed— I’ve looked, digging with my hands in my own dirt. And … Continue reading Mountain Moving