Uttered through a reed

Outside the city, in a marsh, near the river grew a reed.  She had lived in the green and yellow marsh all of her life, and she was happy.

When it rained, the young reed thanked God, she felt clean on the outside and on the inside.  Within her, life surged and she grew strong.  When the red sun beat on the marsh, she thanked God then too (but not so loudly as before).  She knew that although it scorched her outside and hurt inside, her roots were digging into the rich black soil.  But most of her days were like yours and mine:  sunny, overcast, windy, or drizzly.

One day (I'm not sure of the date), the Son of God walked through the marsh.  He liked it out there at times, away from the whirlpool city.  He saw the speckled reed and stopped to look at her.

It wasn't that she was particularly beautiful, but the Son of God needed a reed to pipe on as a flute, and with a little fixing up, she would do.  He studied the reed and finally said: ALittle reed, I need a pipe to play a melody.  Would you let me pluck you by the roots? I can fix you for my purpose, and that may hurt, but I wish to sing a song of love through you."

The little reed could hardly believe her ears; she could hardly believe what was happening to her or what the Son of God was saying to her.  Finally, she strangely enough said, "Yes, yes, let it be done."  And the Son of God pulled up the reed by the roots (and it did hurt).  She lay in His hand and didn't mind.  Even when He took His knife and cut away the throbbing roots, she just cried,

"Yes, yes, let it be done."

The Son of God whittled her to fit His palm and emptied the clutter in her heart.  And when she was hollow, virgin, empty, the Son of God kissed her with His lips and uttered through her a beautiful song of love.