We are in the middle of summer. I hope you are having a relaxing, refreshing time of the year.
I find that these lazy days tend to give more time for introspection. And because most of us are so good at negative self talk, we sometimes come up “short.”
Being in my older years, lacking the stamina of youth and finding my “get up and go” has “got up and gone,” I feel not as needed.
A poem my husband wrote in the 50s has spoken to me. It was written as he thought of the elderly widows in our church.
However, whatever your station in life, your age, etc. maybe you need these words.
A little widow sits and sews,
Whose eyes are growing dim.
“My heavenly Father surely knows
I can’t do much for Him.”
Mine eyes behold the setting sun;
There’s not much I can do.
My race on earth is nearly run;
My talents are so few.
A little spider spun a web
Across a garden ridge,
A man beheld and vowed to build
A great suspension bridge.
A little rod in Moses’ hand
Did part the mighty sea.
‘Twas used of God to plaque the land,
And set His people free.
The little ark of Jochebed
Sat nestled all alone,
To man it was a baby bed;
To God it was a throne.
A little maid on foreign sod,
Her name we do not know,
Sent Naaman to the Man of God,
Who washed him white as snow.
A little manger filled with hay
Became a royal bed;
A little straw became that day
A pillow for His head.
And in the sky a little star
Was summoned to the place,
To beckon all from near and far
To come and see His face.
So little saint do what you can,
And live beneath His wings;
For in the palm of His dear hand
There are no little things.
To read the entire poem, go to the book Please Pardon My Poetry by Dr. Jack Hyles.
Am I the only one who needs this reminder–probably not. Jesus said in Matthew 10:42, “And whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only…shall in no wise lose his reward.”
Little is much.