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Sometimes when I lose my grip

I wonder what to make of heaven

All the times I thought to reach up

All the times I had to give

 

-Jars of Clay

Celtic crosses in a field of nothing. Mist shrouds the mountains. I’m on the Isle of Skye, I’m fifteen—a mere child. I don’t know what this world holds. Now I’m twenty. I’ve seen some of what’s in this messed-up world, and I don’t know the smallest percentage of it.

Warm tears fall down frozen cheeks. There’s a train track through the woods. They follow it until it comes to a hill. What’s after that?—Nothing. That’s just it, there’s nothing beyond, and so they bring it all to an end. A broken heart; everyone in this world has one. Everyone’s been broken at least once in their life, whatever the cause. Yes?

Hollowness in their eyes, there’s nothing inside. They call it a black cloud hovering over them. Sometimes I feel the cloud hovering, but I don’t give in. I have Jesus. It’s threatening to pull me under, but I won’t give in. I’m a fighter, and Jesus is at my side. I fight the black cloud in Jesus’ name and it flees.

Walk down a silent hallway, footsteps echoing, all alone. Curl into a ball, forehead against knees, rocking gently, tears soaking through denim. Back against the wall, daggers staring out through my eyes. No one come near me, please, no one come near me, leave me alone, just leave me alone.

Who will hold me? Please, oh please, I need someone to hold me; my world is falling apart and I can’t take it. Always afraid, always wary, no more pain, don’t come near me. Warm tears down frozen cheeks, I am a statue. I am a statue on the Isle of Skye. Jesus, take me in Your arms and let me feel safe.

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