If I could be anything . . .
Woman theologian. I like the sound of that.
I like having a microphone in my hands and something to say.
I like engaging audiences with words.
I love the Word of God.
I love people.
I might be a nurse. I wish I had the stomach for it.
Let me hold you, baby, hold you when the fever burns,
And your heart can't contain its own ache.
I would like to be a mama. Gentle. Loving. Creative.
Maybe a teacher. Reminding little people that they are treasures.
That they are smarter than people say they are,
That they have a lot more potential than they dream,
That Jesus loves you, Little Man. Little Girl.
I'd like to be the wife of a gentle warrior,
Who runs into light and calls me to come with.
We could be warriors together and at the end of the day,
So tired from a day of just loving and letting God use us
'Til we're worn,
And falling on our bed, exhausted and filled with Jesus.
Laughing because we're tired, and crying because we're broken
By their pain,
And praying because we know there is a Healer.
I dream some days.
Oh Jesus? Just please use me somehow! I know You don't have to. I know You could do it a lot better on Your own, but prepare me for anything, Jesus. Anything. For singleness. For marriage. For Brazil. For United States. For living a life of physical Danger. For living a life of Spiritual danger. For going. For staying. I will be weak right now, Jesus. Here I am. Sometimes resistant. Often stubborn. But I'm Your clay. Form me, Lord.