Could it Be?
by Beth Moore

Empty eyes, a fragile heart, where to begin? How do I start?
Consider the risk! The pain's too intense! I can't be the one.
This doesn't make sense.

Even his sleep isn't peaceful or sound. From a crack in the door
light casts on a frown.
He's made up his mind by the time he is four, too much behind him,
too little in store.

A smile so rare, his words so few. I study expressions, they offer no clue.
No laugh when he's tickled, no cry when he's hurt.
Won't run ahead or hide in my skirt.

Desperate for playmates, but unable to play. A few moments pass, they all run away.
Surrounded by people, he's still all alone. No sense of family, no sense of home.

In one breath he utters, "Please mommy, don't leave." Then he shoves me away,
my heart starts to bleed. The walls go up, he slams the door. Never wanted me less,
never needed me more.

Can't you see, I'm torn to shreds? Precious lives at stake in nearby beds.
Courage melting, what have we done? Satan fights dirty....sometimes he's won.

So many questions shout in my mind. "You make no mistakes, but maybe this time
You entrusted too much, and caught us off guard. Or could it be Your perfect will
is sometimes this hard?

Fresh out of methods, struck out on my plans. Nowhere to quit....can't wash my hands.
Filled with self-hatred, hanging my head. God lifted my chin, then gently said,
"But can you just love him?"