Rooted

Small and fragile I start my path,
A great unknown destiny for me God hath.

A drop of rain drips down on me,
Slowly and purposely I am set free.

A root, small and weak escapes the shell.
The water searching, for a well.

Time passes on as we know,
From the seed I started and grow.

A seedling standing sure and proud,
Yet not as strong as the aspen near me with time has bowed.

The wind lashes my tiny branches about,
I find it hard to stand and my strength begin to doubt.

With a tiny prayer whispered in the storm,
I feel a glimmer of hope, gentle and warm.

The storm passes my leaves again reach out,
For the light sun which erases my pout.

The years pass on and I now look back and see,
That wind and that rain, has changed me.
I stand strong and sure overlooking other trees.
I see the small seedling and urge, "strong you will be.

"The hardships and struggles I have gone through,
Shaped me to what I am now as will yours shape you.
So, to your faith and courage be strong and true,
Your Lord will not ever forsake you, so long as you do."

I stand tall and proud, having beat the storm's wrath,
I have looked back and seen my path.
Such a blessing to have been a tool my Father hath.
Through the years and trials it's not hard to do the math.

My Father has added much more to me,
Than I alone could ever be.