When the recently-graduated-from-diapers
Guard placed his hand
Through the window of my Van
On my steering wheel
To help me reverse, for real?
Masters in Scripture Engagement
On the border of enragement
Why don’t they ask for my help?
I stumble in the emotional kelp.
Tying me up, as I want to prove
I am not one to remove
From the complicated equation
Of a community engagin’
with Scripture
So I have the qualification
See my kids are phenomenal
Their minds and hearts full
Also studied the arts for kids
Hence the drama of the life cycle of aphids
Studied appropriate technologies
Agriculture n small animal husbandries
That’s where my yard looks likes mini model,
And the start-up petting zoo, minus the cattle.
I’ve lived in West Africa for ‘bout 20 years,
Learned Spanish, French, and Hausa in tears.
Started an organization to help the less fortunate,
Hundreds of kids on their academic journey set.
I’ve written smashing musicals and plays,
Invested selflessly on hot African days,
Gone without water and electricity
All for the gospel, chosen simplicity.
I can boast and I can brag,
Give my self a nice hash-tag
But if all they see is me and what I do.
If it does not bring joy to You,
Jesus, I lay it down and call it for what it is.
A wild flower, fading, Dr. P's vanishing fizz
I could write a lengthy CV
‘Bout my accomplishments and degree
Yet one thing is resoundingly true
It’s all rubbish compared to knowing you.
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