In which Ruth ponders the fact that she is not God

I am not God.
I am busy, and I can do much.
But I am not God.
I can command many,
I can do powerful things.
But I am not God.
At the end I will go back to dust.

Really I am not very powerful,   crocus_snow
really I am rather fragile,
helpless, even.
I’m not even in charge
when I like to think I am.
Without my little flock,
without my family, my ‘help me’ friends,
I would quickly wither away.
Without God
I would simply fade away.

This Lent, God,
you tell me to set down your world,
to set it down
and let you carry it for me.
Thank you God.
I wish I listened to you more often.

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