small broken things, we
I sit here on my pew saving seats for my teenagers who may be here for this special conference just before it starts.
The women's choir is warming up and I see the alto on the front row getting choked up, unable to get the words
out.
creative commons from Chiceaux on flickr
"Praise the Lord of small broken things, who comforts our sorrows and washes our feet...
Praise the Lord of the faint and afraid...
He sees His dear children through mercy-filled eyes..."
She is wearing a silky dark green shirt and is holding her head tilted so that her long bangs fall over her eyes and hide her emotion.
But I see her. I see that there may be cracks in her eyes. Maybe in her heart.
We are the small things, yet grand. We are nothing, yet can have everything.
And so I pray to be washed and made clean so that when I see Him I will be ready. And He will see me.
5 comments
And this is why I admire you. Your eyes see inside of hearts.
I wasn't close enough to see her specifically, but I wept all through the meeting. It was a good day with much good, and many good, healing insights. When broken hearts fill, the cracks are less noticeable.
I thought for a moment you might be describing me. These days when I get to Sunday. I just seem to be a crying basket case. Who knows why? Because I don't. But, I do see a change here. The missionaries challenge my hubby to attend church. It was the first time in a long time.
Just so beautiful Kazzy.
Many times I feel a little "broken", yet I know HE is there for me always to comfort me.
GOsh...now I HAVE tears in my eyes
Not sure what to say, but I love your deeply compassionate heart. And the title of this post is exquisite. xoxo
Post a Comment