Sense of Wonder

[wayne blair]

Lord we have steered them wrong
The children
Have given them the stars
The stories and commotion
But not adventure
That will last.
Not the thrill
Of each village
Awaiting arrival
Of peace, health and hope
Craning necks to see
The Carpenter's approach
And setting free.
Not the thrill of assembly
Of the Galilean's story
His calm and countenance
His promise and finished task.
Overloaded with information
They are
But scarcely growing
In wisdom or wonder.
And they will not thank us.
In the reckoning.

 

[lismore]

That's nice Wayne is it your composition?

 

[wayne blair]

Yes Lismore the poem is from me. It is a blessing how many times the Lord gives the beginning lines or cadence and then I am off and at it. Good to hear from the land of St. Andrew. Have visited twice. Love you People. Go to my blog moments mid-stream (search on google) and follow the label Things Scots. (Doug) Wayne Blair

 

[lismore]

Hi Doug!

Thanks for directing me to your blog. I am amazed by some of the things that are on it~ amazing You have a great gift. will spend some happy hours looking through all the material.

 

[lismore]

Here's another wee Scottish tale that might interest you:

An itinerant preacher named Finlay Munro, possibly from the West Coast of Scotland, was, around 1827 or 1828, spreading the Word in Glenmoriston. He was not favourably received by the locals who heckled him to the extent that he declared that the ground upon which he stood would bear witness to the truth of his sermon until the Day of Judgment, and that no grass would grow there. The apparent marks in the ground are therefore generally held to be his footprints.

Urquhart & Glenmoriston Church History - Footprints

I have been there several times and seen these footprints.

 

[wayne blair]

Lismore I see that you are 36 years old. At that age I had lost a business to the bank, with a wife and daughter 6 years old and newborn son. Life took a total change of direction. Became a tradesman of sorts. Watched Jesus perform miracles of provision and heart change. I will for ever be thankful for that apparent "stoke of bad luck". For a time in our suffering we were "invisible" to old friends. The suffering molded trust and then compassion and then power. The insights gained made us "real" people. I am happy that you intend to dig into our blog...Doug