They called it ruin, wreck, and waste – my life that was…
But I was walking into grace.  
The smoke they saw was burning lies,  
While I looked upward, I cleared my eyes

I walked through the smoke, the heat, and the ash – but not alone…
Christ met me where the flames had grown.  
He didn’t flinch, With outstretched hand He pulled me free,  
And rewrote all my history.  

So let them talk – I serve the King,  
Not bound by guilt or suffering.  
My life is His, made clean, made new,  
Flames of mercy burning through.

Kindness is a light we share,  
A gentle hand in times of need,  
A quiet solace when hearts despair.

It blooms in moments small and rare,  
A whispered word and a thoughtful deed,  
A spark of love beyond compare.

In every soul, it finds its way,  
A bridge to heal, a wound to mend,  
A gift that brightens every day.

In this world where we all belong,  
Kindness is what makes us strong.  

A simple smile, a helping hand,  
Can spread joy across the land.

When words are gentle and actions are kind,  
Happiness we soon will find.  

With a caring heart, a listening ear,  
We make others feel valued, loved, and near.

It’s so easy to treat each person with respect,  
In love and kindness, we all connect.  

In every moment, big or small,  
Kindness is the greatest gift of all.

This day’s solemn grace,
In shadows deep, in sacred space,
An eternal tale of sacrifice told,
Whispers at ancient, mysteries unfold.

Through darkness pierced by light divine,
A pathway to redemption and that very sacred sign,
In blood and tears, in love profound,
Hope rises from the buried ground.

The veil was torn, the earth did quake,
Yet in the silence, a promise awake,
Resurrection!  New birth!
Good Friday's sacred space.

Palm Sunday  
Voices bellow loud hosannas; palms wave vibrantly
The gentle humble King rides through the city gate,  
The crowd extolls, not knowing what will come.  

Holy Monday  
He casts the merchants from the temple's court,  
Coins clatter like thunder in the dust,  
A sacred grief ignites within His soul.  

Holy Tuesday  
He teaches truth where traps are slyly laid,  
With kind eyes and a steady, gentle voice,  
He sows the seeds of justice, sharp as blades.  

Spy Wednesday  
He is touched by shadowed, silvered hands,  
One kiss is weighed against the world’s regret,  
The hush that falls before the hammer strikes.  

Maundy Thursday  
He breaks the bread and offers up the cup,  
A basin, towel—He stoops to serve them all,  
The garden waits beneath a sleepless moon.  

Good Friday  
The sky goes black at His forsaken cry,  
The nails resound where silence should have been,  
His cross stands rooted in sacred holy ground.  

Holy Saturday  
The grave is sealed beneath a silent hill,  
No word breaks through the stillness of the dark,  
All heaven holds its breath beneath the weight.  

Easter Sunday  
The earth exhales as angels roll the dawn,  
He rises, bearing everything broken,  
Joy bursts forth—exalt Jesus!  Christ is risen indeed.!