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Dancing Home
By Jeanne Gerst

I am walking my mother home,
To see her to the door
Where there will be no more pain,
and death will reign no more.
The journey has been long
And filled with many a care,
But the Shepherd-Savior knows,
Heís not taken unaware.
Sometimes the steps are big
And hard to manage well;
Sometimes itís only baby-steps,
A sort of dance, I feel.
There is beauty in the dance,
Though sometimes itís unsteady;
Iím learning lessons daily,
To make my own soul ready.
For heaven waits for all of us,
A blessing sweet indeed,
Yet while we walk this dusty earth,
We continue planting seeds




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