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Wednesday's Woe
Shaken to the Core
The death stones cry out to be rolled away.
The "living" seem dead who grieve their child's grave.
Our dead child's voice will be heard no more.
Our Lord in Heaven grieves those at death's door.
Our children grow up to face Satan's ploys
while churches are filled with more and more noise.
Neighbors are aging and selling their homes.
Looking to devour, Satan roams and roams.
My birthday's today; what's to celebrate?
My child's not returned since she left our gate.
My life's on hold~what am I waiting for?
Where is my God? I'm shaken to the core.
Father, apart from You, life makes no sense.
All thoughts of the future now make us wince.
Surely there must be some type of reprieve
For those of us mommies and daddies who grieve.
Then, in love, my Lord reaches out His hand,
"Child, follow the way of My nail-scarred hand."
"Though pierced and drilled through with each painful nail,
My hands have led many through death's dark veil.
"You must take up your cross and follow Me.
My Kingdom's not of this world, you must see.
Though all looks bleak here, you have lost your sight.
It's by My Spirit, not by pow'r nor might
that I lead souls from darkness into Light.
Let My Spirit work in your Grief's Dark Night.
"It's by faith you'll walk through this Trail of Tears.
Keep your hand in Mine. Life's not all it appears!"
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