I often gaze out through my pane,
Three ravens pecking at the grain.
So black their wings, so sharp their eyes,
Not pretty birds beneath the skies.
No chirps or songs to charm the ear,
Just haunting caws we’d rather fear.
They feast on flesh, the dead, the grim—
Yet still were used at God’s own whim.
For when Elijah fled the flood,
It wasn’t doves or lambs that stood—
But ravens, dark and misaligned,
Who brought him food, both day and night.
Not fair, not sweet, not gently made,
But used by God, who gives and aids.
To serve His plan, it isn’t grace,
Nor beauty bright, nor perfect face—

You only need to hear His voice,
And follow through His holy choice.
Then think of doves, so soft and small,
The olive branch, the post, the call—
So loyal, pure, they flew through storm
To bring back peace, to life transform.
And donkeys—humble, mocked as slow,
While stallions led in pomp and show—
But on a donkey, Christ once came,
Fulfilling prophecies by name.
It bore the King with patient stride,
While crowds laid palms and glorified.
It didn’t buck or seek its pride—
It just walked on, with God as guide.
So, when you feel you’re not enough,
Too plain, too weak, or not so tough—
Remember those the world ignored
Were often those most used by Lord.
Stay sharp like ravens, brave and true,
Stay pure as doves in all you do,
Stay humble like the donkey’s way—
And Walk with God through flood or fray.
The world may spin in wild dismay,
But purpose comes when you obey.
You’re not too small to play your part—
Just let God lead your willing heart.

                          –  STPPMIOC Member