A mystery

The significant other and I support a community program for poor children in the Mekong Delta. Sometimes it feels like we’re spooning up the East Ocean – we have hope, but still it feels impossible. This poem was written at a particularly hopeless moment.

Has this ever happened to you? What kept you going? Do share. Leave a comment.

Photo Credit: colourbox.com

The first mysterious thing about life is that it goes on even in the face of the greatest catastrophes

The second mysterious thing about life is that the most tragic catastrophes happen right in front of our faces

And we don’t notice

Nor it seems, does God …

What baffles me is where God can be found

In these mysteries.

When the atom bombs fall

When the twin towers collapse

When the young girl is penetrated (raped rather) and they vacuum her baby out

When the old lady’s belly swells (not a baby) and they can’t  take it out

So she goes home with twelve weeks

At most thirty six

Where is God then I wonder.

It is a mystery

I can ask these questions yet still believe

See his hand as ever caring

And know amidst my unknowing

He has a plan, a purpose, an ordering

It is a mystery

It is grace

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