Fog is heavy… morning is here.
4:30 a.m. Wide awake.
Fog on land. Fog on my heart.
I make a mug of coffee. I dress. I go outside and walk through the dewy grass. I do the farm chores. I watch the sun shine ever so slightly through the mist. Light…. will it come? Dark skies. Dark heart.
These are the skies I’m under.
I think of God. I think of myself. My failure. I think of my young sister who will come into this world young and innocent. Beautiful. Free. I think of the sin that will quickly try to bind her. I cry. I feel the shame of all that I’ve done. What will she go through? Will she be cherished? Will she be scarred? Will she be respected by the men in her life? Will she be troubled by questions? Will she be content?
And all I can feel is the over-whelmingness of God’s grace to my stained up soul. There is no condemnation in him.
I ask him to forgive me.
Yet still I know. I know.
He has. He always has. He forgives me.
I pray for her. That he’ll build a hedge around her heart. Keep her soft.
These are the skies she’ll live under, too. At times bright. At times dark. Foggy. And there will be days when darkness will creep upon her and that fog will lay heavy on her heart also. Let her still feel love. Feel peace. Feel God’s forgiveness for her mistakes.
As I feel it. Deep. Penetrating. Convicting. Humbling. Revealing.
Even me…. even me, he forgives.