I hold my pain as a soft, vulnerable gift and allow it to be. For everything that I am and everything I have ever been is as delicate as a bubble that has been crafted with the most extraordinary care that allows it to be, and for all of my shortcomings and failures, there is victory too, and with every breath that I take, I simply am.
His mercies each morning abound
With compassion never failing
As before His throne
We wait
Inspired by:
Lamentations 3:22-23 KJV
It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.
They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.
She felt compassion for the pain that kept recurring, the ache that needed soothing, the void that needed to be filled, the tears that never dried. Because she had felt it herself. She understood.
I am hoping
That with every door that is closed
With every goodbye that is said
With each pain my heart will feel
That I may understand a little more
That I may love a little more
And that I can be a blessing
In great ways or small
Poems and Petals 