As children play around and dream
of what they’ll someday be,
so did I, as a young child,
and the things I did see!
The glitter of those fancies bright,
were, Oh! so full of hope.
The opportunities were endless,
of all the ways I’d cope.
But, I forgot from whence they came;
to look upon HIS plan.
I messed them up and tarnished them,
with my own clumsy hands.
Til, finally, there was nothing left,
but pieces small and wee.
I cried and put them up in jars,
safe, away from me
For many years, I plodded on,
head down and feeling small,
pulling back from others,
not measuring up at all.
And then, when I bumped into you,
a memory recalled.
To my surprise, I looked up and
mercy is what I saw.
We fellowshipped together and
examined who we are.
Then … one day, you pointed up,
to my old dusty jars ….
“No, no,” I cried, “let’s not go there!
They’re jars of broken dreams.
There’s pieces only, nothing left,
just useless shattered schemes.
But, you insisted that we look.
I pulled one down to sit.
The pieces were all there, still yet.
You showed me how they fit!
Not wanting any more to dream,
you showed me that I could,
and to share my dreams with others
is how I make them good.