A widow friend of mine asked me on Michael's sixth heavenly birthday if I knew why God had still let me on earth. I told her I don't always know, but I catch glimpses of it. I wrote this for her.
My eyes don't see as clearly As they should Their view is dimmed Much is misunderstood They miss the sightings Overlook the good So I will gather the glimpses And treasure the traces.
Like bits of clouds Before the rising sun Fragmented and piecemeal The picture undone A seamless wholeness Is a tale just begun So I will gather the glimpses And treasure the traces.
The incredible vastness Of Your unfathomable design Your intricate workings Are a masterpiece sublime Your plans for my life You do align So I will gather the glimpses And treasure the traces.