Listen to Grammie

My home, though it's modest, is cheerful and warm,

My pantry is filled, I can ride out a storm.

Around me are family and friends I can see,

I'm so thankful, dear Father, but why me, Lord, why me?

Others are suffering and hungry and cold,

And homeless and lonely with oppression untold.

Why was I born, Lord, with the gift to be free

Instead of those others? Why me, Lord, why me?

All colors, all races, all kinds, every creed,

I know they're my brothers and sisters in need.

I know I'm not better so that's not the key,

And I'm not more deserving so why me, Lord, why me?

As I accept, Lord, these gifts that you send,

I'll thank you so humbly each day till the end,

But always I'll ponder this deep mystery,

Why should I be blessed so? Why me, Lord, why me?

by Cecil Irene Chuck

Mimi