Is it too soon to call this year a total rewrite?
One, no, two new medical diagnoses,
Four new doctors,
One surgery down, one to go
For this year,
For this year,
And now quarantine,
Just like that,
The Editor bled red ink all over the pages of my calendar,
My plans for the year,
My hopes for the days to come.
While I grieve the changes,
The 2 AM weight of new fears,
I acknowledge Your control of the molecules of my body,
The molecules of the air,
The movement of millions.
This could not have come unless You
Are actively orchestrating,
Rewriting it for good
To your people,
Who love you and are called according to Your purpose.
I acknowledge that the days being rewritten
Are not being written out of Your plans.
All the days of my life were written in Your book
Before there was yet one.
You rewrote the poem of me from death to life
In Christ Jesus
To do the good works
You prepared ahead of time.
This total rewrite is the path
Of dying to my first draft
And embracing Yours.
If I knew
What You know
About the millions of things You are doing
In these months,
I would claim the gift You offer in this rewrite.
And You do offer a gift.
Do I dare to wait for it,
Watch for it,
A child at 99–
A 430 year sojourn in a foreign land,
Descending from princes to slaves—
Another 40-year delay for the deliverer's
Then plague upon plague
Until Your time was right—
40 years of the not-so-scenic route
Through the wilderness
To the Promised Land—
Seven decades in Babylon—
Return, rebuilding, restoration—
A voice crying in the wilderness—
A babe for a virgin—
Messiah on a cross—
As hard as it is to lose the year I'd hoped to have
And the things which will never be the same
Here I am, Lord.
May this rewrite
Set me right
In plans and patterns
I didn't even know had gone wrong.
I trust You;
Help me trust You.