Her shoulders rise and fall as she shuffles towards me.
Backpack is dragging with more weight than usual.
A hard day at school.
She tries to smile.
Tries to say…Hi Mom…
The words are choked out by a sob that snatches them
My own eyes start to sting.
My own heart starts to pound.
Pulse with pain.
For this child of mine that I love
This child whose hurt
I would scrub clean,
Wash clear away if I could.
I pull her near,
A little tighter.
Whisper my love,
I pray she will feel His love,
A little stronger.
That He will speak His love to her,
His perfect love.
I know He’s using these hurts to draw her to Him.
But I would take her thorn if I could.
I can thank Him for the pain that has pulled me closer.
But thank Him for her hurt?
For her tears?
I want to grab her and run–
Run her far away from all of these 10 year old heartaches.
But I know–
That He knows her.
He made her.
He loves her.
That all this helps her find her footing
So…I will be thankful.
For the hurt that makes her more compassionate.
For the struggle that makes her more persistent.
For the pain that makes her need Him
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