She walks in beauty and grace, and I watch her walk, I see her work, and I see her be. She does all that she can be to everyone that she can be; she is everything for those who are apart at the seams. And I ask her if anyone ever hurts for her, does her heart ever ache; other than the Father, who cares for those aches that I at times see on her beautiful face. She hides it well, pouring out who she is, blessing many, caring much. I tell her that she’s allowed to ache, she’s allowed to hurt, she’s allowed to fall apart, to be broken. She does well at being love, and I know Jesus cares for her heart; but I tell her it’s ok. It’s ok to not always be whole; it’s ok to not always be everything for everyone. I’ve only seen it once, but I know the tears come. They come, and fall like rain; but few are allowed to see them. So I watch, on this side, but always seeing. Knowing.
My heart seems to be an odd kind of full this evening; I feel like there is little to say except express my grateful.
I'm so grateful for extravagant grace, for calm in the middle of a crazy turmoil.
Grateful that in the middle of not knowing or understanding, there is One in control.
Grateful that He is sovereign. Grateful for forgiveness.
Grateful that each morning His mercies are new.
Grateful for Him.
Grateful for the Blood.
Grateful for the love that I cannot ever begin to fully grasp.
Grateful for His song over me.
Grateful that He was dis-membered, so that I in all my ugly could be re-membered.
Grateful that not only do I get to go to the foot of the cross,
but also grateful that I get to go to the tomb expecting resurrection.
Grateful that Easter can be every day.