What I tell you today,
But I once was
A pile of clay.
Flat as a pancake
On the road
Travelers used
As they carried a load.
Despite my constant presence,
They paid no mind to me.
Although my existence was quite glum,
That's how it would always be.
Until, one day,
To my surprise,
I found myself
Catch Your eyes.
I'll never know
What caught Your glance
But I'm certain I did nothing
To deserve such a chance.
You reached down
And amidst all this earth-
Through dirt and dust,
You saw worth.
Being lifted up?
I could scarcely believe
And nothing could prepare me
For what I'd receive . . .
No longer oppressed
And trampled underfoot
In this clay a small seed
Of hope took root.
I could rest as
You carried me in Your hand
I had such a different view
Of this populated land.
Those travelers who'd seemed
So heartless and cold
Now appeared rather weary;
Their faces seemed old.
From this higher view
I could now clearly see
Why their footsteps had fallen
So heavily on me.
The bitterness I'd had
Melted to sadness
Which was all too quickly replaced
With a raging madness.
Who did this to them?
Chained these loads to their backs?
Who drove them like slaves
And gave them no slack?
No wonder they hadn't
Noticed me there
As I lay on the road.
It wasn't that they didn't care.
They were so busy
Each focused on work of their own.
They didn't intend any harm;
They couldn't have known.
I am grateful for the rest
And begin to feel strong.
All the while Your hands shape me
As You carry me along.
The seed that You planted
Is beginning to grow.
What purpose I'll serve,
I do not yet know.
But I know whatever shape
You mould me to take,
In Your hands
No circumstance is merely mistake.
If ever I find myself
Amidst pain and doubt,
I'll trust in Your plans-
Hope has begun to sprout.
Age 25