His Perfect Design
She sat tired, weary and alone,
With tear stained eyes and a silenced telephone,
She couldn’t believe her ears,
That last call had confirmed all her faults and her fears,
With each word another crack and a break,
How much more of this pain could this daughter, this little girl, take?
Hurt by hurt, Piece by piece, she swept and she gathered,
Tired, weary, torn and tattered,
She wept as she swept, and swept as she wept,
What would she do with this heart, beat-less, battered, bruised and shattered,
Soon to be emptied, lifeless and void,
She searched for an app on her Verizon android,
No app could help, one so exhausted and confused,
“What if I just dumped it all,” she mused,
At that moment, the cell began to vibrate,
“Humph?” she murmured in a very irritated state,
She clicked view,
Still unsure of just what she should do,
“Come to me” read this very short text,
“Come to me” who sent this, what will be next?
Again, it began to hum,
Her mind, body, soul, and spirit, no longer numb,
She tingled and shook with fear and excitement,
She clicked view,
“Come to me, my daughter, I love you.”
Still not knowing just who it was at the other end,
Surely she thought, it must be a friend,
She searched out Facebook, Twitter and My Space,
And as she suspected, she knew neither a name nor a face,
In the contact information, the address and phone,
All she could find, was Jesus for name and Heaven for Home,
However, the subject line read “Cross,” and the text read “Salvation,”
A message that was sent without hesitation,
At once she knelt down with all pieces gathered,
She envisioned the One Truth that mattered,
He sat tall, He sat straight, with strength and with care,
She knelt down, with head held low, shameful and bare,
He lifted her chin,
And with eyes so wide, He began to grin,
“Daughter,” he said, “What do you have in your most tender hands?”
“My heart,” she said “Sir, do with it what you can?”
He grabbed each piece with distinction and with gentle touch,
She thought to herself, “Oh this guy’s too much,”
He knew her thoughts and He laughed to himself and, He said, to her chagrin,
“Do you not know who I AM child, I AM the Master Craftsman.”
At once she fell back; they thought she was dead,
“She is not dead, she only sleeps,” with calming voice in reassuring tone these words were said.
He took each piece and one by one placed them within her fragile frame,
Like an engineer or artist, He constructed each piece and each part,
And as if it were magic, Miraculously, He had recreated her heart,
Making the old new, this Master Weaver, new exactly what to do,
For He had made the one that she had,
He was devastated when it had gone bad,
When it was broken, battered and beaten,
He knew that she needed this “Come to Jesus Meetin’,”
He whispered so softly to this “Sleeping Beauty” lying at His feet,
“My child, wake up, there is someone that you need to meet,”
“My name is Jesus, your Savior and Friend,”
“My Lord, my Lord, my heart you did mend,”
So happy and joyous, so filled with His Spirit,
This fountain of Life welled up, her mortal body couldn’t contain it,
Her eternal soul and spirit, through divine intervention, let out their light and poured out the water,
Through those windows, called eyes, of this unsuspecting daughter,
He collected each one, as if in a bottle, which poured into the beautiful river rippling and flowing,
She wondered if, now, she should be going,
“No,” she thought, “I must repay Him with kindness and care,”
As she joyously cried, she let down her hair,
With gentle hand and humble, newly created, heart, she smiled, caressing His feet,
She washed and she dried, with focus and faith, with renewed spirit and mind,
She truly loved this man, who had been so gracious and kind,
Letting go of life, self and pride, she knelt even lower, at once laying down,
That Tierra of gold, that once given crown,
With joy and with compassion, He received her most priceless gift,
With tenderness and with love, her head he did lift,
“My child, my daughter, no greater gift could you have given your Father,”
“I thank you for coming my Way,” with heartfelt good-bye, He bid her His command,
“Love often, Love well, Love every man,”
With this she smiled, most beloved and rejoicing at her newness of function,
“Recalculating route,” her cell began to speak, “Make a right at the next junction,”
She was walking and walking when she came to a sign,
“Come to me, all you who are weary and I will give you rest that transcends time,”
It was in front of a building, with double doors and with steeple,
She went inside and their among the people,
Was this man, Her friend, Jesus, Her Lord,
He was, now, the only man whom she adored,
She knew she was in the right place, her heart leapt inside her,
For her heart knew, her friend and her Master,
For a creation always knows the touch of the Creator,
As it bends to His hand and bows to His voice,
In harmonious rhythm it begins to rejoice,
It leaps and it dances,
To the song in His smile which soothes and romances,
This tale must now come to an end,
But her story goes on in His larger plan,
Just as it does for you and for me,
Each thread He spins together, ever shaping the fabric of each beautiful life,
Ensuring the day when the groomsman embrace’s His wife,
Threads of grace, of love and of time,
He weaves and He weaves,
Till the day when all becomes clear and we witness His perfect design.
Written by Marlena H. Johnston, © 2011
Please don’t toss out such a fragile creation, pick up the pieces and lay them at His feet, allow Him to recreate for you a new heart, that will not only beat, but that will leap and will dance, to the Creator’s sweet and soothing song of true romance. In honor of Valentine’s Day, please consider the broken hearted for that was where Jesus started. Happy Valentine’s Day! God Bless!
