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Measured Steps!
A Time for Grumblings? Every moment of every day- measured, painfully slow steps, Why all these limits on my life when all I want is to run & fly.
Measured steps - oh so carefully,
| when I dream of climbing a tree and walking upon a fence line. Why do I have limits on me? Each day I place and see, limitations to self define. First one, then another, I willingly pick up the symbols of my limits - the cause of my measured steps. As self-confidence grows, my dreams they tempt me. "Come on, just climb a bit higher or run with the children, forget those measured steps and be free. It's time to throw away those crutches, to trust in that useless leg - test yourself, you'll see. How wrong can it be?" Painfully I am stopped 
mid - step in a no - go - zone, each time I try bold and alone, just to lengthen my stride, & my potential not to hide.
Alas, scratches & bruise
| received trying to prove, held up to my yard stick, I have made things tick.
If praise is where its at
| most loudly and bold, for the flight and fun, just what good is that, if I turn bitter and cold when pain is begun?
"So in all things bless
| and praise the Lord!" I try to make no fuss. This measured mess and my leg's discord, why am I made thus?
Each measured step,
| my Lord in all of this, what praise can be? It is so hard to accept the blessing I dismiss here bestowed on me.
If my leg weren't there,
| some may stand & stare but my leg being there, my weight it can share, and 2 legs do make a pair, so smart in a suit to wear.
Those who don't hurry away
| at ease in my awkward display, walk grace beside me all the way.
Although I can't run
| with glory all ablaze here Lord, I guess is a point of praise. Unfolding as I watch His plan does amaze.
But those now seeing,
| His protection as fake, when they've seen that measured step I take, Give boldness I to say, "Hard, be that as it may My Lord makes it okay, With mercy every day."
Oh please don't dismay,
| if I in frailty's clutches, cry out for comfort again. And Lord, in closing I pray, Thank You for these crutches, they make me think of You. Amen. By GhumBy August-November 1997 |
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Though youths grow weary and tired,
Isa 40:30-31 (NASB) | 
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