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To Anticipate

To Anticipate

Published by Rita Klundt on August 8, 2026

I anticipated and got it wrong.

Others did the same, but I still felt dumb.

I anticipated. Next time I’ll get it right,

But I followed through the darkness without turning on the light.

I anticipated that the Lord would carry me.

So, I didn’t fill my tank, and now I pay a hefty fee.

I anticipated that the Lord would understand.

My pray was quick and feeble ’til I felt His mighty hand.

I anticipated. Yes, I know Amazing Grace.

Still, I put off my repentance. Got a hard slap in the face.

Something’s got to give. I’m not that slow to learn.

Anticipation’s one thing, but maybe I should yearn.

I stalled at the same spot where heart and action meet.

Those things my heart desired most were stomped by someone’s feet.

“Why me? Why always me,” I say. “Why must I subjugate?”

When is my turn? Where’s my reward? What have I to anticipate?”

He answered with an instant thought – a feeling of sweet peace.

He’d read my mind and touched my heart, My spirit put to ease.

My fingers in Isaiah. My trouble still awaits.

My life a living picture that God anticipates.

“Even before they call, I will answer; while they are still speaking, I will hear.” Isaiah 65:24, (CSB).

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The Puzzle

The Puzzle

Published by Rita Klundt on April 14, 2026

If my life were a puzzle that came in a box,

with the pieces all scrambled and free.

Were the lid to be sealed and cellophaned,

would I like the picture of me?

Would my borders be laid down first of all,

never-minding what’s painted between?

The sheer joy and delight when two shapes connect.

Dare I hope for a beautiful scene?

Other stuff set aside. I’m committed.

Good puzzles take time and need space.

With the focus on me and my purpose,

I look forward to seeing the face.

Well, the hours and memories start growing.

I am building on sad yesterdays.

There’s a piece I wish had gone missing.

I’d replace it with flowered bouquets.

I question why some come together—

Why others whose color won’t fit.

I see my two viable options.

To keep working with patience or quit.

I imagine my life as that puzzle,

Not flat, laying helpless or still.

Not stealing my time or my table,

But needing God’s hand and His skill.

I can stubbornly force it together—

Be satisfied with crooked and bent.

I can choose to ignore the unfinished.

I can waste every effort I’ve spent.

But I gaze at the lid and the picture.

What I see is phenomenally sure.

It’s a picture of me with my Savior.

I am loved and each piece is secure.

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