I heard you and your stories. I have to let those stories move through my heart and drop into the heart of God, or I will not survive the ache. Thank you for trusting me to do this, and to bring you to Jesus.
I am sorry for all the ways you have been hurt, worked, missed, lost, wounded.
You are beautiful.
God’s hand holds your histories and your hearts. You are not alone, and not the only one. Thank you for showing me what openheartedness looks like, the joy and the tears together. Together is where we thrive, as we learn to open our secret selves to each other and walk in a partnership of grace.
I loved the artwork with you and the hallway snacks, the laughing and the tea. The small groups of sharing. The one on one times. The prayers. The questions without answers. I loved the therapy sessions you never saw, the women who took me under their wings when I needed it.
I loved meeting you.
Also I am very tired. This week I am ignoring the dirt in my house and taking long naps. And eating nutritious food, and burning a candle, and reading a novel. And sleeping again. (And writing out Great Plans to Thoroughly Clean My Entire House Very Soon. I still do things like that. And I will accomplish them too, I think. Soon.)
And know we are beloved.