When I am not sure of Your will,

I need only see and listen.

It echoes constantly in the drum of my heart.

Both times I was born

my purpose was, with free will, to

surrender mine for Yours.

You tell me often every single day

that Yours is the will of our Father.

You gave me a compass to follow,

the Holy Spirit, Your Holy Spirit,

His Holy Spirit.

I dare not pull the compass out only

whenever my way becomes lost.

Lord, with these eyes I am always lost.

Each morning, in those misty moments

before opening these eyes,

I put on that compass like contacts.

I submit everything I am graced with

to God. Thus begins our daily conversation.

I used to think my will was like a yoyo:

a daily pattern of letting go and taking back.

Now I give that broken toy to you

first thing in the morning, and tell You

to slap my hand whenever I reach for it.

That slap usually stings, but that is in itself bliss.

If the Teacher sends me home

every time I become ill,

I would learn nothing.

I drink from the cup of our Father’s will constantly,

whether bitter or sweet. I lift it to the lips of surrender

with the hands of confession.

Thy perfect will be done

in this imperfect world,

all the way Home.

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