A brother and a sister
I’ve adopted through my prayers.
I do not know their names,
And they do not know how I care.
When I first heard their stories,
I just knew that we were kin:
I pray a lot in heaven
That someday we will be friends.
My brother lost his hands
In the Rwandan Genocide.
My sister lost her hands
Over diamond mining rights.*
The great delight of diamonds
For me had never shown:
And now my sister’s pain
Has caused me not to want one of my own.
I pray that when our lives conclude,
In God’s house we may stand,
And meet at last
And in sweet friendship hold each other’s hands.
But for now I pray
God’s grace and joy sustain them as they live;
And I pray God’s grace will give sweet strength
To help them to forgive.
November 16, 2013
*in Sierra Leone
Ok, just to be clear, I still have my hands. But as a piano player (and, especially, as a crocheter), I have always greatly feared losing my hands, and my heart and prayers go out to anyone who has suffered this way.
As for diamonds, I am not here to pronounce judgments or criticisms against anyone who buys and enjoys diamonds. That is between you and God. I know that God made these gems for our enjoyment, and in a sinful, fallen world, the enjoyment of many of God’s good gifts has been corrupted.
Diamonds are just not my thing. I prefer lab-created stones that I can replace at will. CHEAP! I know. But the lovely harp toward which I currently cast a lusting, covetous eye costs a lot more than several diamonds, and – more to the point!—will be much harder to lose, steal, or accidentally flush down the toilet than any small, shiny, faceted stones.
And, still speaking of diamonds (or, to make a short story long!), I would like to encourage my regular readers to go back and look at my poem “No Diamonds!” Let me just say, it is not what you think.
You are all in my thankful prayers. Thank you for stopping by my blog.
Praying for God to bless, encourage, and protect you today,