Our faith, like flowers, leaves us desiring more--
the tulip could not satisfy demand
until the bubble burst with bulbs galore--
so God as we approach withdraws His hand.
Each garden for all our sweat seems incomplete--
perrenial lilies disappoint again
as our unanswered prayers fade in defeat--
so Christ made Easter bloom beyond our ken.
No matter how much flowers may fade away--
more daisies come again as we but gaze
and dandelions swamp in ricochet--
so saturates the Lord our faith malaise.
As we await Impatiens impatiently--
our faith is restless 'til it rests in Thee.*
-- by Pete Voelz 2000
(Paraphrasing St. Augustine: “Our hearts
are restless, Lord, until they rest in Thee.”)
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