As I journey life’s pathway, broken people I will meet; some more broken, some less broken; but, all broken just like me. We wear our brokenness like a suit of armor trying to protect ourselves, not healing the hurts from the past we collect more baggage to carry. With every disappointment a shard of glass protrudes from within; unhappy homes, failed relationships, mental and physical abuse, and yes the aftermath of death packed away in the dark corners of our minds; afraid to let other see the brokenness we hide.

The sunshine is shining in our eyes as our smiles hide the truth, we have it all together; at least that’s how it looks to you. Hard to share what’s hard to speak, hard to see light when walking on a dark street. Voices from the past haunts sleep, fathers saying things to their children they shouldn’t speak, not realizing the wounds go very deep. Love of a mother never felt, no hand to lead the way or soft spoken words to say tomorrow will be a better day. The journey seems so much longer, the road much harder when it appears all hope is gone; unfortunately, some just can’t hold on.

The weight of the baggage they carried was to much to bear, the darkness to thick to move through. Where can one find light to break up the darkness, to heal the wounds inflicted by those met along the way? Damaged people damage other people because they need healing too, many never know how much they have damaged you. They’re not privileged to the secrets we carry in our hearts, words not spoken are never heard. There is hope for all seeking healing, each shard carefully removed; the Artisan’s hands are gentle, they cause no pain. He washes each wound with love and pours in healing salve, His light will dispel the darkness; forgiveness is the key He gives to unlock the baggage stored in the mind.

When we forgive others as well as ourselves the healing will begin , we will walk in light; never in darkness again. The voice of love will live on our lips, speaking loudly to those still caught in darkness leading them to the gentle hands of the Master Artisan.

My revelation as I sit by the pool of grace

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s