Wait, yes, I do.
They came from these layered personal tragedies, lost hope suffocating my courage, vicious lies from Satan. Emptiness grew these tears, and Despair
pushed them out from the very depths of my heart.
All I remember is emotionally collapsing in the cove, memories of this
last year flashing through my mind like snapshots from a horror film.
They held me as I cried.
They were the only thing holding me up.
What an odd feeling for a soul to crumble, but rejoice at
the same time.
I wept for the girl I was. For her pain.
For everything she went through. For
all that she endured, both before coming Christ, and especially after.
I sobbed. And I celebrated. I rejoiced in having a faithful God. A God who provides in His timing, in His way.
They held me up.
They held me.
A way to stop my deepest sin. A sorrow to end my desire. The absence of friends to appreciate His eventual gift. Failed relationships to hinder my dependence. Friendships to grow me, to guide me, to
remind me of His love—His sweet, sweet love.
I am loved. And He
loves me.
And I am His, and He is mine.
I am emotionally exhausted. But I'm under His light.
And so begins Week 2.
