Thursday, October 6, 2011

The Storm with a raw prayer

You might be the wife,
holding on a by a thread
You might be the man,
Struggling to provide
Feeling like it's hopeless,
but trying to keep the pieces together.

Maybe you're the daughter,
Who cries herself to sleep because you're so alone
Maybe you're the son
Thinking you'll always be the screw up,
Praying God can you hear me?
God are you listening?
Is this worth it? 
Am I worth it?

Am I made for something more?
Am I fearfully and wonderfully made?
Am I more than just skin and bones?
Am I really your child?
Am I really something treasured?
Am I here for a purpose?

I want to believe. 
I don't want to be someone who wanders trying to fulfill a deep void.
Jesus, I want to believe.
I want to know that you are here.
I want to know that you hear me when I cry out to you.

Help me to believe that you have the ability to set me free. Help me to believe that you are going to hold me together, because I can't hold on much longer. Help me to believe that you are going take the thread and create a beautiful quilt out of this messy yarn because I'm falling apart.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...


You're not alone.