​Set my gaze upon my children.
Give me the weight of their being, oh Lord,
And impress upon me the gravity of their eternity,
That I would fear withholding any good thing from them more than I would fear my own death,
That I would be eager to do and give them as much good as I can while we both shall live,
That I would shower them with love more than and before I shower them with money,
That I would give vulrnerability more than and before I give critique,
That I would pour over their ears pleasant wisdom more than and before I pour over them bragging facts of subjects I love,
That I would cover them with love and kisses more than and before I cover them with expectations.
That I would model for them providence and hard work more than and before I model foe them success.
That I would surround them with laughter and nature more than and before I surround them with toys.
That I would take a deep interest in their gifts and weaknesses so as to praise the former and forgive the latter.
That I would turn my eyes to them when they speak to me.
That I would listen with interest.
That I would champion their successes and simply be a present support in their failures.
That I would have discernment and wisdom for when to speak and when to be silent.
That I would be last in order to be first,
That I would be weak so as to be made strong,
That I would bow down to be raised up,
That I would follow in preparation of leading well.
That I would honor and thereby find my honor.
Thay I would give and thereby always receive.
That I would labor to make them in your image and not mine.
Set my gaze upon you, oh Lord,
And impress upon me the holy idea that they belong to you.

A word well-placed,
Your gaze with flame,
Sweetness outpoured,
My lap is your resting place.
A finger tipped to my leg,
Your pinky hooked with mine,
Our bodies one.
A palm as we pass,
Slight or passionate, 
Even the public display is a private language we speak. 
Friendship renewed,
Through text or incarnate, 
Touch is love and love is touch.
Your dinner date legs pressed against my knee,
Your head nestled on my chest,
Arms wrapped and embracing something beyond love.
Lips in their own dance,
Laughter-soaked air,
Humble prayer at meal or close of day. 
Each one a touch, 
Each touch a paint stroke,
This love's landscape unmatched, 
Brought to life,
Given colorful life,
Touch by touch. 

There is joy in the strain
When the seed bursts forth
Seeking light from the darkened sod
And preparing its stalk for fruited weight.

There is peace in the pain
When the Samaritan lifted
With his goodly hands
And gave from his own pockets
To house and feed the roadside lame.

There is delight, some even say fun,
In the hard-walked Path of climbing a hill,
Whether rain or shine, If we trod pavement or dirt.

The seed had the fruit within it.
The Samaritan had God's love inside.
The heart told the blistered feet
The destination was worth the ache.

And every strain I feel
On this beautiful path
With you is joy
Because it is you
I get to have by my side.

​I'll be the seed, if you are the fruit.
I'll lift the lame if your love is the inn.
I'll journey the rugged terrain
If you are the end.
There is joy in the strain,
Only when that joy is you.