Author: Marcia Gunnett Woodard

As We Gather

Father, As we gather here to feast on Your Word, We thank You for inviting us To Your banquet table as Your children— Precious sons and daughters of the King. We thank You that You meet us here, Joining in the love and fellowship We share as Your family. Create in us a love for Scripture— A hunger that can only be filled, And a thirst that can only be quenched, As we receive Your Word to us. May we who are blind see Your face. May we who are deaf hear Your voice. May we who are lame...

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To Papa, on Fathers

Dear God, I don’t understand. It doesn’t seem fair. Some of us grow up with wonderful fathers— Amazing fathers who leave too soon, Though not willingly. Some of us have ones Who turns the word “father” into a curse. Some have no father at all. A father Is so crucial to life— Forming. Shaping. Challenging. Directing. We need our fathers. Why can we not— Each of us— Have a wonderful father? Then, I remember. We all— Every single one of us— Does have a good, good Father, The fountain from whom flow All the blessings Of Father-love. A Father...

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One of Those Days

Papa, Already, It’s been one of those days. We woke up late Because the power was out, So there was no hot water for showers. And in the warm fridge,the milk had spoiled So the kids got zipper bags of cornflakes for breakfast. The power was out because of a storm in the night, And the driveway was flooded; Which I discovered When Emma splooshed out through the puddles In her brand new shoes. I got Thomas and the baby into the car without mishap (Except for the pacifier dropped in the mud), Only to find the kids had...

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Are You There?

God Are you there? I call and call to you Asking for relief, For answers, But the only reply is more troubles. I feel shackled, And my prayers Bounce back to me In repeating echoes… Echoes… Echoes…. As if I were a tiny beetle You have trapped under a brass bowl. You say you will be my strength. Where is that strength? You say You are my refuge. Oh, God, be my refuge. Let me feel your sheltering arms Let me see you fight for me, 122When I have no other champion, No advocate. Set me free once more....

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Risen

Papa, I sit here in the dark Of Holy Saturday night, In the moments Before the dawn of resurrection— Waiting For my miracle, The answer to my prayers. The change I long for. The change in me. I am tired. The old me Is exhausted, Weighed down, By my tendency to sin. Come, Do a new thing In me. Transform my mind.. Give me a new heart— A heart to follow you. Resurrect...

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