Her Name is Kirsten
We knew
her not, nor saw her,
But her
mother knew her as only mothers can know
Those
whom their womb has nurtured.
For long
months they shared
An
intimacy of being
That no
one else could share.
And her
father knew her—
In the
countless expressions
Reflected
in her mother's countenance.
And one
day we all shall know her.
She
awaits us in the home
Of our
Father in heaven.
Hers was
the privilege of going from womb to wonder—
From the
comfort of her mother's womb
To the wonder
of her home in glory.
And
Kirsten awaits you there, Grace and Murrie,
Anticipating
your joyous embrace.
Nor will
she e'er forget you.
Nor will
her spirit e'er be more then just a prayer away.
David
Morsey