Type A in a type F body,
That's what You have allowed,
It's fibro that has brought me here
And to my knees I've bowed.
The pain seems never ending
And laziness abounds,
I feel so useless, Lord, at times,
My thoughts a battleground.
My brain seems often in a fog,
My words get twisted round,
I sometimes stumble when I walk
And, oh, for sleep that's sound!
But why should I complain at all,
There's many more much worse,
I need You to remind me, Lord,
When in pity I converse.
There is a higher purpose
For all that You allow,
And if this serves the greater good
Then I submit right now.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." II Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)
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