Poems of Margaret Peterson
An atheist looks at a lovely flower
And says, “A flower I see.”
Someone of faith says, “I see the work
Of the Creator of you and me.”
When leaves once budded in the spring
Turn to burnished gold
Or scarlet red or russet brown
In splendor to behold…
It’s then the world becomes for us
A magic place to stroll
Down winding little country lanes
That stirs our very soul.
Could autumn be a hint of Heaven
With streets of shining gold
And colors even fairer still
Than ours so bright and bold?
Perhaps God gives us autumn days
To lift our thoughts to Him
Who has the best in store for us
By contrast, fall is dim.
All the things that happen
In this time we call “our life,”
That aren’t the very pleasant kind
But filled with pain and strife…
Are called by some, misfortune,
But in actuality,
It’s God endeavoring to touch
The heart of you and me.
For then we need His loving help
To get back on the road
Where He can walk along with us
And share our heavy load.
The road is rough and rocky…
At times we trip and fall
But always He’s beside us and
Will hear our every call.
It’s called the “Road to Heaven”…
“Misfortune” to a few,
And if you want some company,
Jesus waits for you!
My Gift to Jesus
I opened up my life to Christ
As wide as I was able
Inviting Him to use it as
A little Christmas stable.
My heart would be His manger bed,
Each prayer would be the straw
And all good deeds the oxen’s breathe
To warm the air, so raw.
I hope He’ll like my little gift.
It may be only one
But God gave all the world one gift…
His precious infant Son.
Point of View
Thank you for Your beauty, Lord.
At times I don’t look out.
I only look within and see
My shades of pain and doubt.
But if I looked at You, Lord,
Amidst Your clouds on high
My worries would become as clouds
And softly drift on by.
It’s the love that’s in the home,
Not the food that’s on the table
That makes a person grow within
And keeps them strong and stable.
The Basement of My Heart
The loneliest place inside of me
Was the basement of my heart
Unable to love myself or God…
Fear roamed in every part.
Down the stairs came a manly step,
Yet a different quality, too.
It was Jesus Christ, the Son of God,
Wondering why I was so blue?
I told Him my dreams were shattered to pieces
God was most distant of all.
I had prayed for miracles night and day
But never did God hear my call!
He told me requests with no need for Him
Were selfish, although they were heard.
What of His will and plan for my life?
What of His love? Had I heard…?
His arms were aching to hold me close.
He longed to heal all my past.
He wanted to live each moment with me
But my self-seeking love bound Him fast.
I asked forgiveness for selfishness
And hoped He would come here to stay
Forever, within the heart of me
To love me, day after day.
He promised He would, then led me upstairs.
True romance had its start.
It all began when Christ heard me call
From the basement of my heart.
The Measure of Love
God measures our love by the size of our heart
For it grows as we love Him each day
And it grows by the way that we love Him in others
We meet as we follow His way.
Just before the sun comes up
A hush can fill the air
As though the earth cannot believe
The scene beyond compare.
The dandelions, little suns,
Have the softest glow.
Nature’s imitation of
The fiery sun we know.
Bobolinks and robins, too,
Sing their sweetest tunes.
Meadowlarks are followed by
The plaintive cry of loons.
All the earth is heralding
God’s gift of light to man.
Oh may He light our path so we
Fit into His great Plan.
When God can seem to take too long
To hear our heartfelt prayer,
It doesn’t mean He hasn’t heard
Or simply doesn’t care…
Rather, like the Bible says,
“Take this as a sign;
The mill of God grinds very slow
But also very fine.”