You Chose Me.

 You chose me.

You saw my existence 

Before my conception.  You counted 

The days of my life, knowing when 

I would breathe my first.  When I would carry my last.  

You chose me.

Naught for the accomplishments

I would found, 

Nor for the accolades

I hope to receive.

Oh, how I believe

That their words would add

A breath of weight to the worth

Of this dame!

You chose me.

It wasn’t my intellect.

It wasn’t my words.

It wasn’t how I sang.

You chose me.

It wasn’t my physicality,

Or my perseverance.

It wasn’t my skills..

You chose me.  

For I was Yours.

My Father chose me.

He didn’t have to.

There were no words made

Obligating Him to hesitate

His presence to be near.

My Father chose me.

The circumstance was cursed at most;

Shameful at best.

And yet,

He chose me.

The matter was a mess.

My Father found the blessing in disguise,

Even though the odds defined

It wasn’t worth the risk;

He determined His blood of enough

Value to call me His own.

I confess that to this day,

I still search for my own crown.

There is this instinct that if I

Just do something,

Say something,

Dress a certain way.

Act a certain way,

Accommodate to a standard,

Then perhaps…

Just maybe…

I would be worth something.

Humanity’s philosophy argues

Heavenly DNA would 

Justifiably perpetuate

The longing for my glory.

Nonetheless, idolatry never has

Satisfied the desire to be loved

Just because.

Nevertheless,

You chose me.

Not for the distinction of who I am

Or may be;

Rather for the distinguishment 

Of who I am to You.