This morning, I felt uninspired so I turned to a favorite Kentucky author, Jesse Stuart. I love his poetry. It speaks to me in a way that makes me appreciate my heritage. There is quiet place on our farm I visit that is peaceful. I often wonder if my husband’s ancestors sat in the same spot. It’s my hope that someday, my children and grandchildren will discover this secret place.
The Quiet Place
By Shelia Stovall
I am a mother praying, in the shelter of the woods
I lift my eyes to see His glory, and know that He is good.
The work of God filters through, to my secret place
This peaceful spot, in the quiet, where no one else has paced.
The seasons pass and years go by and nothing seems to change,
And yet it does, each leaf is new and I am born again.
Worthless and unworthy, I come on bended knee
To thank Him for His suffering on Calvary for me.
Years from now I pray my children’s children might sit here
To spend time in His presence and know that He is near.
I am a mother praying, in the shelter of His wing.
He fills my heart with peace and assures me I’m an heir of the King.
