A Kiss from Rachel

O Lord, satisfy me with Your goodness!
Turn my heart away from pursuing worthless things!

I love trinkets, I love doodads, I love gewgaws.
Wood, hay, and stubble?
I have an entire kingdom made of cardboard.

"When I became a man, I put away childish things."
—so spoke Saint Paul.  Was he younger then than I am now,
looking backward at the time when he became a man?
And here I sit, surrounded by—engulfed, overwhelmed by—
my childish things.
Old fool that I am!
Will the day ever come, the day when I will be a man?
Or am I fated to be forever ensnared
by the twisted bands of my iniquity?
Must it take some colossal effort of the will,
some titanic throwing off of the old man?
—something I don't have the energy to muster.
Or shall I sit here, feigning patience,
while the imps prick and poke me?

While I writhe and moan in the
uncomfortably plain view of all my sins,
still my heart finds its rest in these words:

"My grace is sufficient for thee."