I thought my great story would sparkle and shine,
With chapters that unfolded on my grand design.
But God had a plot with a much larger view.
“Dear writer,” he said, “let me write with you.”
I plotted my timelines. I hastened the pace,
But edits from Heaven kept slowing my race.
I grumbled and fussed. “This delay can’t be right.”
Smiling, God said, “Patience gives purpose its light.”
I doubted his timing when doors would not swing,
Yet trust isn’t proven until we get past the sting.
For faith isn’t proof until the actions are clear,
As we choose to write through confusion and fear.
God taught me that trusting is not sitting still.
It’s moving in step with the shape of his will.
The plot may seem twisted, the pacing unkind,
But grace is the rhythm that rewrites my mind.
Sometimes my chapters were messy and wrong,
But mercy revised them and made them belong.
Each failure, each rewrite, each tear that I cried,
Was ink in the story as my pride slowly died.
I learned every no was a gift in disguise,
A comma, not period, through God’s eyes.
The Author weaved a theme I’d not known,
For this his story. It was never my own.
When words start to wander or meanings seem blurred,
I pause to remember—I need his help to shape each word.
I catch my breath and say, “The keyboard is yours.
You always have the story that forever endures.”
