By Jarom Petrich

Each flake of drifting snow can tell a story all its own,
The frigid cold and howling wind help shape the way they’re grown.
And crystals formed in boiling depths compressed by crushing weight,
Are colored by the elements in which they saturate.

And every facet cut into a gem’s resistant face,
By a jeweler’s steady hand carves new perspectives in its place.
His tools may not be gentle, but his touch is always kind,
He toils to shape each one to fit the vision in his mind.

Children of God are much the same, they grow through trials and strife,
Each one a pattern of the things they suffer through in life.
And each of them is colored by the space in which they grow,
So only God can judge the hue with which his offspring glow.

If God makes countless sculptures of the grandest filigree
With just some falling drops of rain no one but him will see,
Or makes enduring diamonds from deep lumps of unseen coal,
What masterpiece might he create within your heart and soul?


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