it fit fine...so why this shift, Lord?
i know...i know.
and so i raise my voice and whisper "holy"...but the word cuts my heart like a blade. i tip my head back to give way to the shower that's cold as ice, each drop ripping off the mask that i didn't want removed.
and so i raise my hands and say "holy"...the cut slashing me again, breaking free tears that flow to mingle with the salt-free flood. my weak legs burn, knocking me to my knees before the glory i forgot to give credit to.
and so i fall on my face and scream out "holy, holy, holy"...each word punctuated with my sobs and heartache, completely laid open in the vulnerability of the rushing storm.
i know You.
the memory washes me warm in place of the chill, forcing me from my face to my back. the storm, still raging cold, now is pushed away for a vision of tomorrow...the valley, once a disappointment, now blooms new...the pain, once my feared enemy, now shows itself useful in the palm of Your hand.
and so, as Your hand pulls back my glimpse of what will be and i return into the wet and maskless realities of what is, i take a simple breath and whisper "Holy, Holy, Holy is He".
Looking up as always...