Ice, snow, no electricity, no water, schools, churches and business shut down. The recent week-long Arctic blast was the start of a Lenten season that I have never experienced before. The freezing temperatures presented many challenges for us in Texas and other southern states that rarely experience such frigid weather. However, being shut in with no place to go and minimal distractions turned out to be a blessing! My prayer life was more focused, plus I had more time to write, which was something I was longing for.
You see, weeks before Lent started, I came across a Catholic children’s literature writing contest that really grabbed my attention. My faith and children’s literature are two of my passions, and I desperately wanted to participate! However, I knew that it would be near impossible to take on this challenge because along with working a full-time job (that does not have to do with writing), I had a deadline for another major writing project due the first week of Lent, and I just flat-out would not have the time.
Then the winter storm came.
With lots of unexpected spare time, and a pencil and notepad, I snuggled up was able to scratch out a first rough draft of a poem to submit to the contest. Each day brought more revisions and new drafts. Ash Wednesday passed with no power and water, but I kept writing. Just before it was time to submit to the contest, our electricity came back on! Not only was I able to submit my poem for the contest, but I also was able to meet my other writing deadline! God is good!
I hope you enjoy my submission, The King, and be sure to check out the host of the contest, Theresa Kiser, as well as the other wonderful authors that took part. I wish you all a blessed Lent!
The King Within a cave of winter cold, A newborn King gets gift of gold. The babe is our Lord, Who escaped the sword, Because his dad does what he’s told. The King grows up and fasts and prays, Within the desert, forty days. Temptation then came, But he beat the game, Because he minds The Father’s ways. The King does heal and teach and feed, He’s hailed with palms; beaten with reed. The crowd screams, Yes, kill! Then his blood does spill, Because of fear and hate and greed. The King is slain and put in grave, By everyone he came to save. And though he is dead, There’s nothing to dread, Because he rose and us forgave! Within a Lent of winter cold, Let’s rend our hearts; do what we’re told. We’ll fast, and we’ll pray, Forgive the wrong way, And give The King our gifts of gold.