A Story of Transformation

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“Wake Up” by Puchiqa

I woke up one morning in a bad mood.
Everything I said was just so rude,
And the way I acted toward others: crude.
My words were like sandpaper;
Grating over the delicate exterior of each person I saw.
They left my presence burned and raw.
I didn’t care what I was doing or to whom,
Because this is all about me.

My day was almost over when,
I looked down and saw that book I pick up every now and then.
Clearing away papers and mail,
I took hold of the cover and released it from its cluttered jail.
As I opened it in my hands,
I felt myself growing frustrated from all my other worldly demands.
I have no time for this stuff or reading right now!
Besides, my troubles are like my own personal sacred cow.

Yet I open it anyway and my eyes scan the text,
And words like a balm flow over me.
They tell me to let go, give in,
And that word only whispered in hushed tones slaps me in the face: sin.
Me a sinner?  I’m no murderer or thief!
But there’s no relaxation, no sigh of relief.
No, I know who I am.
I’m that person you encounter who cuts you down,
Because I am too busy, too over extended.
Yet things aren’t as great as I have often pretended.

I cause others pain because I cannot be bothered,
To care for their life, their story, their devotion to the Holy Father.
I’m in this for me and all that I want,
But somehow it doesn’t have that effect the culture will flaunt.
I am not happy, or satisfied, or fulfilled.
I am lost, sad, and hopelessly strong willed.
Getting my way has not the effect,
That my stoney exterior often will reflect.

Do I need God and some relationship?
From somewhere deep inside comes a reply:
“Yes, you need it.  For this you were created.”
Even if it is all that I sought to disregard, that to be hated?
I lie in my bed with thoughts racing in my head.
I have not been totally made new,
But the beginning is there for the Holy Spirit to continue.
All my bluffing and faking with this harsh veneer,
Covered up an inside that wants nothing more,
Than to be open, honest, and good to the core.

Sleep overtakes me and my eyes start to close,
Tomorrow is new and as I begin to doze,
I hear a voice calling my name,
“You were lost, but now found.
Come take for yourself my holy name.”
Tomorrow I will wake up,
My cross I will take up.
For I have seen that I need you, O Lord.
I need to be restored.

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