My prayers were heard in the soccer field,
with hands that fold and knees that yield.
In seasons varied, cold and hot,
did I enquire of the grace that bought.
With grass-stained jeans in dead of night,
did incensed words lift t'ward your heights.
With burdens greater than my words,
did I so speak to ears that heard.
Through summers oft, mosquito bite.
Through winters cold and starless nights.
Through cool of day in spring and fall,
did I make my way to where I'd call.
On the center lines of soccer fields,
with hands that fold and knees that yield.
To speak with silence, rest in thought,
and contemplate the grace that bought.