Number days, yet know your days are kept in Him. If He held stars, then He can hold your dross, your deadened weight. At dead-ends, wait. He makes all things well. Hope can break, yet covenant anchors days and ends. Morning mends. The dross, the deadened weight of broken hope lifts. WhenContinue reading “Lent: The Wait, the Weight 6”
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The Consolations of Writing 