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Wednesday, October 13, 2004

POEMS WRITTEN AT FITZSIMMONS....1980 

In conclusion of our time spent at Fitzsimmons Army Hospital I am sharing four poems written while I was there. Having read the account these last few days on my site, they may hold more understanding now. The following poem is a reminder that God always has a plan underway if we look for it. He works best through our adversities. The following was written April 13, 1980

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RECONSTRUCTION

My life is made up of many roads.
Some well worn
loved
familiar
comfortable.
I cling to them.
They are security
I say.
God in His wisdom calls them ruts.
Gently leads me by the hand
like Peter
to places
I would not choose to go.
It is always on the unfamiliar road
that we are more aware
observant
open
dependent.
Thank you Father for making new roads in my life.
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May 18th 1980

Most of us have trouble asking for help when we need it - much easier to give help than accept it. Long weeks living in and around a hospital community changes old attitudes and habits….we come forth realizing our priorities are different. For the patient and family things are rarely the same….

THE CHANGE ARTIST

It is in reaching for help
I find I can give it.
In losing my life
I find I can live it.

God can’t give till He’s taken away!
No made over messes
and second-hand junk
No extra parts from a
broken down trunk.
He removes the old
and creates brand new
He loves you too much
to simply “make do.”

It is in reaching for help
I find I can give it,
In losing my life
I find I can live it.
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May 25, 1980

In long unexpected absence from home sooner or later our mind drifts back to scenes we have enjoyed, and stored, to pull out later and revisit when we’re homesick. One morning in the fall I had been captivated by rays of sunlight filtering down through the trees in our back woods. The density of the leaves and the spikes of sunlight were a backdrop for the most beautiful spider web near where I stood. The dew was hanging in droplets along silver threads so intricate one had to wonder how a spider could weave such beauty. Nor would he ever suspect it was viewed and admired….and remembered.

MORNING PATH

Spikes of sun slant down
between the trees
To light a dew-kissed
spider web
And change it into silver
filigree of ancient art.
The molding leaves are
quiet and deep
And provide an offering
of fragrance
Even now, though long since dead.

When God’s light touches
the webs
I’ve made in error,
I pray they too will illuminate
into a lovely design
of order
and purpose.
And perchance as I am dead
and molding
That my fragrance would linger on
to please another
as he walks along
this path.
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May 27, 1980

There is no prejudice in a hospital…all the sick and ailing pull for each other and work together. The families form a bond of sympathy and encouragement. No one is superior and we are all needy even though sometimes we need a lighthearted reminder.

LOVER OF UNLOVELY

Jesus picked fishermen
and men who planted seeds,
Tax collectors, Pharisees,
and men with every need.

Prostitutes and lepers
He loved them all the same,
Thieves and shady characters
He gave a brand new name.

Why He picked the ones he did
is more than I can see,
Imagine my surprise when
He even picked me!!

I hope some of what I’ve shared will lighten your day wherever you are and give you hope that God is at work in your life……even when the road is steep and you fear you travel alone…..He is there….and He loves you……yes, even you and me.

Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther