Holy One, I remember how I felt, lying in bed,
awake, unable to sleep. Each night
I managed only a couple of hours.
Those were interminably long, lonely nights.
I ached for your comforting presence,
but though I knew you were present
I found no warmth, nothing to ease the void
It was then that I had to draw on faith, on resources
within, on memories that testified to your love and provision.
And friends, who loved me in the day so I could last through the night.
A place I love so much, that had been a thin place
felt heavy, thick and barren of all it had ever given me. I moved
as one moving in bitter cold—hunched, stiff.
Job, I hear your anguish, and the memory of mine rises up in accord.
I have learned this:
what seemed insurmountable called forth faith, perseverance,
and courageous hope. I have learned that scars can make us beautiful
if we will allow them to be seen.