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To A Pensive Pencil

Mother Theresa fascinates me. As such, I have read just about everything she has written or that has been written about her.

“I am a little pencil in God’s hands. He does the thinking. He does the writing. He does everything and sometimes it is really hard because it is a broken pencil and He has to sharpen it a little more.”

I love her love and simplicity. I love her trust in God and her desire to rest in His strong, sure hands.

If my soul is a pencil, it is often a frantic, worried one attempting to draw my own picture or sharpen myself. This week I have found my soul wrestling to be a resting and ready pencil.

To a Pensive Pencil

Oh, pensive little pencil,
Stay poised in my hand.
It is not for you to know
All that I have planned.

Your primary job is to stay
Enfolded in my clasp.
I will not give you the
Control for which you grasp.

For I alone know full well
The beautiful works ahead.
’Tis mine to do the leading,
’Tis yours to be gently led. 

My strong and sturdy hands
Will expertly draw each line.
Your weak and wavering will
Must be enfolded into mine. 

So, rest now, pensive pencil.
You must learn to be still.
For only when you trust me,
Can we fully do my will. 

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