remember the roots
from which you grew,
the strokes of paint
the master made
as he fashioned you
in your mother’s womb.

remember the eyes
that first saw you,
your unformed body,
His masterpiece.

remember the cord
from which you were cut,
the hands that wrapped
and washed you clean.

remember the gifts laid at your feet
the grace that covered you
the words that spilled softly over you
before time even began.

remember that his tomb stands empty,
that the stone was rolled away
that His invitation stands open
for you to pause and praise Him
through the art of play.

His keeps his mission super simple
so listen when He says,
go outside and play.
go and tell the nations
about the love
of Christ.
use words
if He calls you to,
but let it be clearly seen
in the way
you live your life.

appropriate His glory.
He has good things
stored up for you
in the story
He has written over you.

so go, but bind this truth
around your neck
as you step
into the new.

you are His masterpiece
a work of art
meant to bring light
to dark places.

be a vessel that welcomes praise
and when you feel
you may have lost the art of play
in the midst of all the racing
remember that all good things
usually come full circle back
to those who remember
to call their mother.

Amen.