My Page: An Easter Thought

Sunday, April 20, 2014
    With it being the Easter season, and also Sunday today. I've been thinking a lot about God and my belief in him. I came across this poem I wrote when I was 11 today as I was spring cleaning. I wrote it while on a family trip to Bear Lake. I remember sitting outside by the lake with my notebook, originally hoping to write a poem better than the ones my sister had been sharing with us all week (Yes, I have a very competitive soul). However, as I sat outside, the cool morning breeze gently waving at my hair, and looked at the beautiful world around me, I could not help but think about how grateful I was to live in the beautiful world  my loving Heavenly Father created for me. And, I could not help but be in awe that because of His son, I could return again to him someday, despite my mistakes. 
    I will be forever thankful that I learned this knowledge and knew it to be truth deep in my heart, even as an eleven year old. Because of Jesus Christ, we can become perfect, despite any mistake we've made. Nothing we've done it too horrible to keep us from God's love. I cannot wait to stand before him and know because of Christ I once again have a clean slate. 

My Page   

I began with an empty page; my life was clean and pure,
But now my page is not as bright as it was before.

My precious page once new and white has turned a different shade,
It's darkened, scratched, and slightly torn with the mistakes I've made.

Sometimes I imagine my page is clean and I can start once more,
Then I could keep that page of mine, white and clean and pure.

I begin to feel rotten, mad at what I've done, and see..
..I was not becoming the person I had always wanted to be.

Then I remembered something, I'd been taught through all my years,
There was for me a savior, who would wipe away my tears.

If I would only turn to him, He'd reach out his hand, 
He would help me, bless me, and bring me through this land.

So I asked him to help me through all my pain,
He said, "My child, I'll help you. For this reason was I slain."

And so he took my battered page, and cleaned it with care, 
My precious page was clean again, I no more had despair. 

So now I know that if my page is ever scratched or torn,
I can ask my Savior for help, for me his pains were born.

And when again I see him, I'll to him quickly run,
He'll say, "My child, I love you. Rest, your work is done."

By: Natasha, Age: 11

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