Monroe Dispatch - No Struggle, No Progress

When we were pushed out the womb, the angels sang a tune, that reached the ears of God

Proclaiming that this would be the day, that we begin our race, and the journey called life would start.

As we inhaled our first breath of life, we made a down payment on the price, that is charged for becoming a living soul

That can only be paid by death, an appointment that is kept, by all whether young or old.

The days of our lives that we will dwell upon the land, have a number like the grains of sand, in an hour glass that tells us the time

That we will spend upon this earth, to make our mark and do the work, that our heavenly father assigned.

From the day that we are born until we exhale our last breath, there is a record that is kept, by the man sitting on the throne

Checking to see what we did with that little dash, between our first breath and our last, before He called us home.

How will you respond when your heavenly father asks, “What did you do with

“YOUR LITTLE DASH” ?

COPYRIGHT 2012 (Matthew 25:14-30)