Recalling that I have a Father who lets His robe trail among twigs and His nail scarred feet walk upon hard cement to give His daughter her crown.
Thank You, Jesus.
I can’t.
I can’t go on.
The words, weak and soft, were barely heard to her own ears.
She was so weary.
Her journey was long and rough.
Rough enough to lead her to a forest of broken trees and dead soil.
But she was so weary.
She walked a couple of steps more to a tree stump, where she eagerly collapsed.
She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.
Unwanted tears spilled down her face but she didn’t wipe them away.
She just took a deep breath.
And exhaled.
Deep breath
And exhaled.
She lay there for a while in the quiet of night.
Too weary to move.
Too weary to speak.
Too weary to care.
Until a question came from behind her.
“What’s wrong?”
Without turning around, she exhaled,“I’m so tired. I don’t know what to do. I’m not good enough. I’m not doing enough of the right things…
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