His Hand Was Always On The Plow



Life is an open field, full of promise and opportunity with so much to yield.

As I reached the age of reason and began each new season,

I viewed the openness of my life and planned it my way

at the dawn of each new day.



I told myself “I am in control” so let the good times roll.

I grabbed the handles of my life’s plow and pushed it hard through that field... just to see how much it would yield.



I pushed and pushed, pulled and jerked ...difficult times came no matter how hard I worked.

I wanted direction but I found no tradesman to show me the tricks of the trade. There was no rest in the shadow of the shade.

I plowed through life’s rough terrain under the sun, dust and heavy rain.

I readied the earth of life to just the right condition, to plant my seeds of ambition. Through blood, sweat and tears for many years.



I plowed those row’s of life inch by inch furrow by furrow.

For every stone of disappointment I upturned, a valuable life lesson I did Learn.



Now in my 70th season I inventory the field of my life, I was sure the rows had no form, design or shape but to my surprise every row met the sunrise.

Every twist and turn all had meaning.



For every lesson learned along the way, taught me to pray... today.

Before the sun and after, I know God listen’s from beyond the trees

when I pray to Him on bended knees



For God can see beyond the obvious, not one event in my life was ambiguous.



Don’t ask me how, God’s gentle hand was always on my plow.







Authored by Paul D. Gonzales