And on one such day I heard the most hurtful words flung from the mouth of a babe. And I hurt down deep because those words first came from my mouth. And the sting was deep. And I cried out God help me. Change my messy broken soul. Make me something more. Make my heart something that pleases you. Make this frail broken mess something that brings you glory. And I weep. And I ache.
And I shower to try to wash away the numbness. And I cry. And I eat cookies. And I sit on the floor and have tickle fights. And I weep long in the arms of the man I love. And it still hurts. And I am still broken.
But my God is big. And His mercy and grace are new every morning. He is perfect. He is good. He is holy. I am not. And today I can rest in the fact that His grace is sufficient for my weakness.
And I list gifts.
#556 lunch with dad
#557 wrapping gifts with little girls
#558 tickle fights in the floor
#559 stopping by a friends
And joy comes still in the midst of pain.