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 heró

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 wonderó

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