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."