So many different things I hold in my hand,
But I don't hold them there.
Gravity holds them down,
God's finger picks them up moves them around.
Some of them I wanted to stay, some were a happy release.
Others appeared with joyous surprises others too heavy for grief.
Move it around.
Pick it up and move it around.
These things I hold them an offering to God.
He sees my hand and then
Raises me seven on my knees.
I will trust and obey.
Move it around.
Pick it up and move it around.