Jesus walks with me down Lakeshore Road,

His arm around my shoulders.

He points out budding pussywillows, whispering maples,

a squirrel bounding down the road

and the sun trailing diamonds through the water.

"Your brothers and sisters," He says.


When the rain soaks my shoes

and spatters my glasses so I can't see,

He always lends me an umbrella.

When my feet are like clumsy lumps of lead

and I trip over them with every step,

He's always there to pick me up again.

When I ask Him to come with me somewhere,

He never hesitates; he's got eons of time.


"Don't worry," He says. "You're not a mistake -

you're a work in progress, but that's all right.

The world's greatest Artist knows what He's doing

and I know your soul will be beautiful someday."