Looking back, many years hence, will I see me now?
Will I remember the state of my heart, the fear, the long hours tottering on the brink of despair, peering down at wraiths of failure?
Will my dead ends come to memory, my dark alleys of doubt, in wich to go forward or to retreat in haste both promised as much as they treatened?
Will my ignominious surrenders, white flags hoisted prior to the faintest effort, reveal themselves to foggy nostalgia?
Will today's tears. recalled. once again run down their long dried grooves in my heart? Or shall forgiveness, of self and others, salve the wounds? Will memory cast grief into oblivion?
Looking back many years hence, will I remember the deep pit, the miry clay, from which I was snatched, and give thanks to my Savior?