Nostalgia

My father used to read us poetry at the dinner table and when our acting Director sent this poem around the other day I had a moment of deja vu:

In All These Things

God’s promise is not freedom
From trials in the race;
But power to transcend them
Through His sufficing grace.

Not rest instead of labor,
But in the labor rest;
Not calm instead of tempest,
But calm when sore distressed

Not light instead of darkness,
Not joy instead of grief;
But brightness in the midnight,
And in the woe, relief.

Not gain instead of losses,
Not ease instead of pain;
But balm upon the anguish,
And losses bringing gain.

Not strength instead of weakness,
Not smile instead of tears;
Not peace instead of conflict,
Not song instead of fears.

But weakness filled with power,
And tears with radiance spread,
And peace amid the battle,
And song e’er fears are fled.

--Norman F. Douty--

Daughter # 4, my Daddy and me in Anchorage Airport

...balm on the anguish.