Rugged storms, the winds
of change, lift our moorings
from the planting inside of us.
We resist by setting into the winds,
standing firm, but still we stumble
under the pressing weight, falling
into and apart from our self.
We like to think we are soldiers,
resisting the enemy, fighting back
with advancing lines. But the truth
is gold and prayer is by faith; the
shield of protection, the armor of the
Lord.
Roger Singer 