Read a wonderful poem in Frontline Missions' Dispatches today:
I see Your hands, not white and manicured, but scarred and scratched and competent,
reach out - not always to remove the weight I carry, but to shift its balance, ease it, make it bearable.
Lord if this is where You want me, I'm content. No, not quite true. I wish I were.
All I can say, in honesty, is this:
If this is where I'm meant to be, I'll stay. And try.
Just let me feel Your hands.
Cheryl Beckett, medical missionary in Afghanistan
Slain on August 5, 2010 by the Taliban