Troubled

Who says that Christians never get depressed?
I wish they’d tread my path a little while.
They’d understand what makes me so distressed,
And why it’s sometimes hard for me to smile.

I’ve traveled the weary, uphill road, it seems,
For weeks on end, and not a rest in sight;
And when I would surrender to my dreams,
Instead of bliss, I’ve trouble all the night.

What bothers me? Just little things, and yet,
When added all together they create
A mountain which I cannot seem to get
Around or through, or somehow to abate.

If only there were someone I could share
My problems with, a friend to understand,
To love, to help, to criticize, to care,
To pick me up, to lend a helping hand.

Is there no one willing to help me climb
This mount I’ve made within my troubled breast?
“Why, yes, My child, I’ve been here all the time;
Come unto Me, and I will give you rest!”

TBT October 30, 1991
Copyright © 2017 Abigail Gronway – All Rights Reserved