I wish I could be with all of you during this season and take you with me to the homes of my friends. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? So this month I’ll occasionally be doing posts (like the one for today) that start here and finish on a blog of someone I love. Thanks so much for coming with me! It really means a lot…
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hot tears slam my cheeks, slide down, rivers of unbidden emotion.
I’m shocked at their appearance–hot lava exploding from a mountain that had just been covered in daisies.
I slip into a bathroom stall, place my head in my hands, sniffle into a square of paper. That year…so good, so hard.
I feel more like a warrior than a writer.
My heart has the scars to prove it.
But then, softly, a whisper comes to my heart, “Put down your sword.”
And I notice, for the first time, how my heart has stood in ready-to-fight position for so long, stiff, waiting to dodge the next blow.
I relent. And something inside clatters to the ground. I see the wounds, still fresh, not noticed in the heat of the battle. I touch them tentatively. Cover protectively.
Then again, softly within…
“If I will wash your feet, will I not wash your wounds?”
My friend and fellow writer, Mary DeMuth, is starting a series about healing on her blog this week. If you’ve ever been hurt, will you come with me and read the rest there? You can tell us how we can pray for you too… just click here.
