I come to you—
broken and inadequate,
wondering what you see in me.
Some days are like this,
when the clouds hang low
over my heart
and you seem hidden
somewhere behind them.
It’s part of the veil, perhaps,
that we must endure
until we see heaven.
I don’t like it.
This morning
I long to see your face
to hear your voice,
to have your arms around me,
to know your love fully.
This world is breaking my heart—
all the pain, the hurt, the suffering.
I didn’t know that it would
be so hard to hear those stories.
Tears slide down my face now
as I cry for them,
these daughters of yours,
so broken and so blessed.
I am one as well.
Imperfect and immeasurably loved.
Fallen and fearfully, gloriously made.
Weak and wonderful.
Today I’m tired of the in-between—
the place separating now and forever,
the space between broken and whole.
Today my heart is a little girl,
just watching out the window,
waiting for you, Father,
to come get us all.
