The road He led me to travel started smoothly,
rough along the edges at times,
but quite easy to traverse.
I blessed His name as I walked.
Small pieces of stone developed over time,
larger ones tripped me up occasionally.
Trustingly I stretched out my hand for His,
placing my faith in Him to keep me steady.
I praised His name.
Over time a few rolling hills loomed in the distance.
I placed one foot in front of the other
and with the help of His hand,
climbed steadily up,
the path still relatively smooth.
Bless you Lord, for this life of mine.
Peeking over a rolling hill one day,
I saw a valley lying before me.
Though the task of crossing looked great,
with my hand in His, I knew we could make it.
When I tripped, He lifted, when I fell, He caught me,
and together we made it to the other side.
Thank you Lord, for crossing with me.
Day followed day, months turned into years,
still we walked on.
Nothing seemed impossible for us together.
Bless you Lord, for all you do for me.
And then one day with His hand in mine,
we crested a mountain ridge,
the scene before me was dark and ugly.
A deep ravine, a chasm so wide
the other side could not be seen through the fog.
Fallen logs, swift moving streams,
cliffs, boulders and danger blocked my path,
night as dark as ink filling every crevice.
“Lord,” I cried as I pulled my hand from His,
“I cannot bless your name!
This road you have asked me to travel
is more than I can bear.”
I fell into a heap, tears coursing my face.
“I cannot cross this great divide,
the way is too rough,
the pain too much to carry,
the road too hard to travel.
I cannot bless your name,
what reason have I?”
As I wept, a gentle hand tugged mine.
With care He lifted me to my feet
and pulled me into His embrace.
In a soft voice he whispered,
“You don’t have to cross this valley alone.
I will carry you when you cannot walk.”
Only a tiny sigh touched my lips.
Together we started down,
the road ripped deep into the earth,
filled with pain beyond compare.
Many days were spent struggling,
only moving one step forward.
Tears fell freely,
but a gentle hand was there to wipe them away.
Blood spilled from the wounds in my feet,
with tender care he bound them.
But nary a word of blessing
crossed my lips as we climbed,
only cries of grief and anguish.
We pressed on day after day,
crossing that great divide.
Always, as he had promised,
He walked with me,
when I could no longer move,
He carried me, faithfully there.
And finally one day I quietly spoke,
“I bless you Lord,
not yet for the path on which I walk,
but for the hand that holds mine.
For this, I bless you.”