In the mysteries of my mother’s womb,
God knit me together,
A precious pattern with infinite details,
Qualities like no other.
Many petite, brown haired and,
Brown-eyed girls are born,
In whom their intermost being God weaves,
Uniqueness so innately detailed and adorned.
Still, there isn’t any being like me,
God so particularly created and fashioned,
The possibilities that were & could be,
When God created each of us He purposed.
But the mistake you cannot make,
Is to think I’m His little marionette,
He gave to me free will to choose,
Would He do that and then forget?
Every day there’s the possibility,
For me to choose how to use my skills,
My heart has a longing to make God proud,
Not to make this a clash of wills.
God can work best through yielded hearts,
Today and hours yet down the road,
And if I down the road He should take,
I pray then the Lord finds I shoulder His load.
For to turn my back on my Designer Creator,
Would be to turn on the best of me,
For there cannot be the smallest doubt,
Jesus forgave my sins and set me free.
It was then in this fine hour I saw,
To choose to see His best in me,
Forgiving myself as He forgives,
Living each moment, His way, and free.
This is what His call to me is,
Savor every moment of everyday,
He created in me too the need to create,
Sitting and waiting is not the way.