It is not love wrapping its wooly fleece around my shoulders that wakes me
It is not the bouquet of flowers left at the door that enters my thoughts
It is not the knowing look in another’s eyes, giving my existence a sense of meaning, that crosses my mind.
No, it is not when someone walked beside you and listened when you cried
No, it is not when someone waited at the gate when your plane was late
And no, it is not when someone put his hand on yours and kept you still when everything around you was in chaos.
These fall beneath a shadow as the clock ticks and I count the hours left in a day.
The sun sets its stark glaring eyes as the moon raises its sleepy stare, and my thoughts turn again, and again, to the ones I cared about, loved, and lost, to the ones who left scars, who through unrecognizable eyes, the bitter winds blow.
Wounded are we in the room of those we love, not our enemy’s. Betrayal knocks and lets herself in, she stays uninvited and cozies into the most comfortable chair without a care, glaring her red, watery eyes into the soft places of an open heart.
It is not the denial of our enemies that wakes us when the stars cast their incandescent glow across the night sky. It is the denial of those we love.
But with each wound, I step that much closer to the One who was betrayed by those He loved. The One who understands rejection, betrayal, loneliness.
And it is then, in that moment of understanding, that all darkness turns to Light.
From evening to morning, from mourning to enlightened, my eyes are opened and, bringing peace from the battle that was against me, for there were many against me, comes release.
It is then that I know my heart will sing again, and I ask only for the next step of faith to run the race of God’s Good Grace.