I am not contrite, I fight
The Plan the Lord has for me.
Kindness, Mercy, Justice I seek,
but it all by-passes me.
My fruit is weak, my crown is small
but bigger it would be if I could just
humble myself happily to Thee.
I fight his will, I want my way,
It's righteous desires I seek.
But I must wait and wait and wait
and be like Abraham meek.
I have not seen the Lord as he,
I do not talk face to face,
But I too know the plan is real
and eternal life comforts me
Priesthood hands have blessed my life,
I have believed them true,
But nothing matches up you see,
A mother I will probably not be.
But can I turn away the God
who lends my breathe to me?
who died for me that I might
with my forever family be.
He forgives my sins, he comforts me
with the gospel truth restored
Through scriptures that I can read
and choose to trust or run away.
Is my plan a plan of hope,
or just sick ironies?
Although I do not fit the mold,
I know He still loves me.
- By Becky L. Rose
Sept 7th 2014.
