The water’s rising rapidly . . . rising . . . swelling
My soul sinking in despair
as the storm consumes hope
rendering barrenness to my soul
The deluge falls relentlessly . . . falling . . . drenching
immersing my faltering mind in a torrent of sorrow
Can pain pierce any deeper
cleave my battered heart in two?
A touch on my shoulder . . . lightly . . . barely felt
A mere breath . . . of what? . . . of whom?
A stirring of perception
awareness of a presence . . . a Presence
Uncertain glimpse of the essence of life
God . . . here . . . even in the darkness
His Spirit gently restoring
as the warmth of his grace penetrates
One breath at a time . . . breathe . . . breathe
One beckoning ray of hope
as He lifts me, reviving again . . .
Awesome, this coming back to life . . . Life
Renewed hope and courage
soul infused with peace . . . His strength
First a whisper, then a river
flowing from His wellspring of love
He is sufficient for me.
“My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” from 2 Corinthians 12:9
I know this world is far from perfect.
I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.
I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic.
But every ocean has a shoreline
and every shoreline has a tide
that is constantly returning
to wake the songbirds in our hands,
to wake the music in our bones,
to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that new born river
that has to run through the center of our hearts
to find its way home.”
― Andrea Gibson
Photo by Serena Hagadone