letting go
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Oh God, the one who hears the small and voiceless, the one who spins the wind into hymns— do you see the bruises pressed into their silence? Do you touch the aching marrow of those who could not save themselves? The children cry in muffled tones, their voices swallowed whole by shadows. Their hands, once…
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Oh God, the one who hears the small and voiceless, the one who spins the wind into hymns— do you see the bruises pressed into their silence? Do you touch the aching marrow of those who could not save themselves? The children cry in muffled tones, their voices swallowed whole by shadows. Their hands, once…
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When does the healing end? When do the old ghosts stop rattling their chains in your bones? They say time is the great healer, but time is also a thief. It can steal innocence, families, safe and warm memories. It smooths over the jagged edges, sure, but does it ever really fill the cracks? Happiness…
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In the darkest hour, when the night is thick and the shadows have teeth, I think of God’s mercy—not as a gentle rain but as a thunderstorm, tearing through the black. It is not the quiet balm we often wish for but a fierce, relentless wind that uproots the despair from my soul. It’s a…
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Both of my parents exercised their power in cruel and unloving ways. As a little girl I did my very best to do what pleased them. I kept a smile on my face when we were around people. I invested large amounts of my time denying who they were. At all costs to myself, I…
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Millions of us will choose not to tell our story. Deeper still, millions will choose to hide and deny their truth. It’s just so easy to walk away from the past — or is it? It breaks my heart, actually. It was not easy to tell my story. Can you imagine calling the police about…
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Forgiven of what? I owe no debt to the people who abused me. Why then does it feel like I am forced to repay something I didn’t steal? Why do abuse survivors feel the need to hide the dirty secret? Is it for their own protection or is it to protect the abuser? Is silence…
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I believe that God saw that I was unloved as a child. That’s why He found me. The well of my tiny soul had no water and my eyes gave no light. Then, I met Him. In my room at the age of three, pegged against a wall of suffering, waiting for my body to…
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Millions of us will choose not to tell our story. Deeper still, millions will choose to hide and deny their truth. It’s just so easy to walk away from the past, or, is it? It breaks my heart, actually. It was not easy to tell my story. Can you imagine calling the police about a…
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God is not so unjust to forget these treacherous deeds done in darkness and done in the full spectrum of daylight. He remembers because He was and is our witness. Hear me, Lord, my plea is just; listen to my cry.Hear my prayer— it does not rise from deceitful lips.2 Let my vindication come from you; may your eyes see what is…