Our Vision

Our daughter’s in there.
We just know she is,
waiting to come back.

With flowing long hair,
Easter dresses, and
dating a young man.

But it’s so cold here,
with an exposed neck,
no dreaming to keep warm.

She’s getting older;
there’ll be no turning back,
taking the wrong form.

We daily wrestle
with your timing, Lord,
waiting in frustration.

She’s your clay vessel,
bears your image, Lord,
cause for celebration.

So, please direct her;
guide her safely home,
back to our embrace.

So, please perfect her;
make her truly known,
hope shining on her face.

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