The Healing Journey

January 7, 2026

No Grass Grows

I roam where no grass will grow.
The bees make no honey, the cows are dry.
At night the moon withholds her borrowed light;
By day the sun is shrouded in dark clouds.
The wheat and barley wither on the stalk,
Fruits shrivel before they ripen.

God has withdrawn life’s blessings
And has decided to test my faith.
Will I continue to love and trust God
Even in this bleak, harsh wilderness?
God does not bless me, I want to curse God.
Let my curses melt into blessings.

(Excerpted from “Celtic Parables” by Robert Van De Weyer)

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