Close your Eyes

Close your eyes...of course, you must be able to read, so...

Close the eyes of your heart for a moment and imagine.

Imagine you've been sinned against in ways so harsh, it's not uttered in public.

You are shattered, broken. And those who hurt you are the ones you would run to.

So you return to the rotting source of life, again, and again, and again.

Each time you know the results will be the same, but you embrace the hope it will be different, just this once. Then you could make it.

But, the damage slowly chips away at your soul, and the little ones running to you, clinging to your legs, begging for more moments, more food, more love ~ overtake you, overwhelm you...but there's nothing left for you to give.

And you snap. And you escape. In the only ways you know how. The only ways you have seen those of your heritage and culture escape.

Just one drink to ease the pain. Just one high to help you forget the lie you've believed, that there's no way out.

But it's not enough. So you run to your comfort one more time, and another, and another.

Each time the little ones fade from priority a shadow more. Because today you just have to survive. To keep yourself alive. To keep them alive.

And then the he said, that she said, that he said. And the knock comes.

One long blink, and garbage bags are filled. Their arms are reaching, screaming for one more touch of you. To inhale your smell one more time.

And in a flash, another tells you when you will see the ones you were surviving for. Another commands you are unfit to care for the ones your own body grew within the womb, the ones you nursed to life.

Another competes for their affections, barters treasures with them that you could never imagine to afford.

And the need for escape intensifies because the shame, is just too much to bear.


And yet, there is one who bore all shame, for we all escape in some quiet way. 

And yet, there is a Healer for the soul. A perfect Father who longs to delight in her.

And yet, there is one who gives life abundantly.

But, who will tell her?

"Go and make disciples." Matthew 28


  1. This High Calling.... the title of your blog speaks volumes. They are so broken, so damaged, so hurting. And after a while we forget and become immune to their cries because they are a nuisance. And we have to jolted to remember again. These aren't just children. These are broken children. And while we can't fix them ourselves, we can lead them to the one that can.


    1. Thank you, Sweet Anna. So true. So grateful to have you as a model of this.