I sat in my favorite chair, my grandmother’s platform rocker reading what was meant to be a Psalm of praise (Psalm 145). I sat reading about the faithfulness of God and wondered, am I the wicked one he speaks of in verse twenty? I questioned not because I had committed something unthinkable, but because I had come again to the end of myself, almost lonely in the quiet of my own space, wrapped in the commonness of my tears and brokenness. I cried silently hoping no one would hear the splashes as I poured out my heart to the Lord.
I was falling, He lifted me. I ate, when the time was right.
Still, I wondered, would He really satisfy my desires? Thirty-eight and still waiting to see the desires of my heart. Even so, the truth of the Word of God says the Lord is faithful to all his promise (Vs 13), and He promised me the desires of my heart, as well He promised to love me, to carry me, to cover me, to heal me.
It is in my brokenness that He can heal me, teach me, use me.