Nameless

I haven't thought of a suitable name for this one yet. Probably because I haven't tried very long to think of something. Like most of my poems, it has a story behind it, but this one more than others. Usually, they just come from something I've been thinking about. This one actually happened because of circumstances.

Maker, I fall down at Your feet
Broken by Your chast'ning hand
Purified by the trial's heat
In my strength, I cannot stand.

Oh once again, I've failed You so
Spurned Your Word and left Your grace.
Once again, Lord, but now I know -
It's not I who wins the race

There is nothing left of me
Nothing that I once did own
Nothing that I once could be
Nothing can I do alone.

Nothing special, nothing good.
Are all my talents, time, and skill,
But Father if You wished, You could
Use me for Your perfect will.

Oh my Lord, if there is aught
If anything of use in me
It's only if that You have taught
And made me that which I should be

There is nothing left of me
Nothing that I once did own
Nothing that I once could be
Nothing can I do alone.

There is nothing I can do best.
And nothing You cannot replace.
My life is Yours, in You I rest
Will You change my sorry case?

Will You choose to work through this clay?
Would You give a task to do?
Will You ready my heart today?
That I might praise only You.

There is nothing left of me
Nothing that I once did own
Nothing that I once could be
Nothing can I do alone.

The story:
I've been told during my life that I was good at things. A natural! In Michigan, I sang and played the piano and people told me that I was good. Someone once said that I had the most beautiful voice they'd ever heard. I tried not to let it go to my head, but inevitably, I believed what people said about me. They told me I was good; I knew I wasn't great, but I could believe I was good.

The first thing to go was my skill as a pianist. I went to school and found out just how not good I was. Talented? Skilled? Not really. I'd always known that people didn't really know because they couldn't play, but it was different when I went into my piano lessons with a teacher at college who wasn't just happy that I had practiced, a teacher who in fact, was often rather not happy with my lack of progress.

Next went my vocal ability. I came to California and all kinds of people sing well. I was nothing special. I was nothing great; I hardly made it into normal. I am not a skilled singer. I fit in with the crowd, completely superfluous.

Then, there was trying to learn how to drive a stick-shift. . . . I'm a good driver, I thought. I've never been pulled over, never been in any real car accidents, etc. etc. I'm a good driver. . . . who can't learn how to use her left foot. And then I remember all the times that I nearly caused accidents on the way to and from school, all the times I pulled out in front of someone or switched lanes without checking my blind spots. I'm a GOOD driver? I don't think so. But God is a merciful God.

Lastly, the real kicker that is actually kind of comical, but brought the whole thing home: skiing. In Michigan, I'd been told multiple times, since the first time I went skiing, that I was good at it. I had a natural talent for it. I went skiing on an actual mountain this past Tuesday, and I found out I'm not a good skier. I'm a good faller. I fell in spectacular ways and skied with less skill than my husband who'd never worn skis before that day.

But there is a bright side to all of this. Despite my lacking in skill, talent, or ability, God still decided to save me. And that means He has a job for me. I've no idea what it is, and I'm probably not going to be good at it. But there's a job He wants me to do. I just have to wait for it.