“ And yet, O Lord, you are our Father.
We are the clay, and you are the potter.
We all are formed by your hand.”
Quick to love, smile and even play.
Let them look into my eyes, see more of You this way.
Not the rushed mom clinging to the schedule or a drive to succeed.
Let me get out the tea set and the Monopoly,
Knowing full well Your sweetest gifts are staring back at me.
And never think for a minute that this is all me.
I need more of You this way.
No condemnation–just the potter and His clay.
Let there be no regrets over words unsaid.
Inspire me to speak forth Your truth, hear these soft hearts,
And speak words that say:
This is just a little imperfect prose that I’m sharing this week. Cried through most of it…heart stuff.
Also sharing on SomeGirlsWebsite. 🙂