God Has A Plan

Born with a painful intestine disease

My childhood was anything but a breeze.

'Ignore her crying,' my mother was told,

'She's seeking attention, naughty and bold.'

Reprimands and smacked bottoms followed,

Banished to my room, I hollered and hollered.

But God had a plan, he helped me break free

Through escape to the loft, much to my glee.

For there, on the floor, lay boxes of books,

Banished, like me, or so it looks,

Mere dust collectors, in my mother's mind

But oh, to me, what a glorious find.

Reading and reading, I soon learned to write

Short stories and plays, with a family invite

To come, be the audience, for thrupence a seat

And watch my cousins act it out, oh what a treat.

Thus, years later, when a published writer,

My persona, reborn, became so much brighter.

With letters from readers, all over the world,

Praising my books, my sense of worth was unfurled.

Setting forth my experience of trials and sorrow

I looked not to the past, but on to tomorrow

For God has a purpose for us, one and all

He imparts us with gifts, what e'er might befall.

He leads us through our pain and sorrow

Sets a path before us, and bids us follow.

And thus we shine forth his love and peace,

So the pain of others may be released.

PS:  My mother was not a bad person.  She wept when my condition was diagnosed.