From dawn I waited,
My shirt pressed and shoes shined,
With gears oiled and lamps filled.
Awaiting the call,
Hoping to be chosen.
All day long it went on,
All names called but mine,
Everyone gathering up their tools.
Discarding we unchosen,
And sinking my hopes.
Unable, incapable, unqualified,
Just not good enough.
Each rejection giving a different name.
But now comes the eleventh hour,
When all others have left,
Why am I still here?
I don't know.
Against all hope, will someone yet choose me?
Matt. 20: 1-15
sč
Singapore, December 22nd, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
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