When the sails have been lofted
And the gusts of winds,
Not in our favor, have shifted
All of our hopes and dreams
Sometimes finding jagged rocks
Upon distant shores.
As foam and tide clasp
And then collide
We ride on…broken
yet still alive.
Other times we cling to
These water logged
life boats,
bailing out bucket-fulls
praying in earnest
that we find safe harbor…
we yearn, we labor
savoring these remaining
ounces of courage
all the while
depleted reserves
left in our spiritual storage
of reservoirs are the only things
that have run dry.
The tides continue to
Beat their tribal drums
thumping against our feeble plans.
Could it be, perhaps
The Divine waiting
In earnest yet lovingly
on our complete and
utter capitulations?
Pastor's Ponderings 
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