Picture this: a thief breaks into your home and steals nearly everything you own. You are devastated, and all you can see are the things that have been taken from you. As the dark days go by following this tragic event, you begin to notice small things around the house that you did not buy. They are simple. Seemingly of no consequence. Some are practical, while others are impractical but carry meaning and beauty.
See, suffering for me is not a matter of fairness, but rather an honor. God has chosen me for the difficult mission. The dangerous one. The one with great glory and reward and joy at the end. (Even though I want all glory to go to Him because He deserves it!) "For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison." (2 Corinthians 4:17)
It's made me realize how important it is to just talk. And to do it face to face. To feel safe. To know there's zero judgment. To actually look into someone's eyes and know without a doubt that they're listening with every fiber of their being.
Another poem about that one word.
A poem about the relentless pursuit of my Love through all my darkness and storms.
25 days and 8 hours. That is the amount of time that has passed since my last post. I've responded to a few comments, liked a few posts, but the words have dried up at the tips of my fingers like the petals of a flower in the desert.