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God never did tell me why. He promised instead His unfailing love and His
grace, which
Bible says is sufficient. Some how, those promises
didn't seem like enough to bring understanding to my grieving heart. I
ached for children I would never have and a body,
which at least to me, would never look normal.
Healing like after healing line seemed to lack power.
It made me cry out all louder. "Lord, Father,
Almighty in heaven where is Your power?"
Remember me, I never asked to be a cracked cup. Faithful to his word
the Son of Righteousness arose with healing in His wings. A miracle you
ask, I think so.
I am learning to come into His presence to hear His
heart and allow Him to draw me into that solitary
place with Him. There he speaks comfortable to me the
words of life that sustain my soul. You are darling,
my beautiful one. You are my beloved. My banner over
you is love. The word of God to me, which is as ointment poured on to my
hurting heart.
Sometimes, when I look in mirror I still see a cracked cup. When I
ask Father what He sees, He
whispers in my ear, "I see Jesus."
The p.s. to this story, in this world and in our cupboards is, there are
many cracked cups. Some have been cracked by their own hand, some because
of circumstances and some it was way they were created. So when you
choose your next teacup and notice a crack hold it gently to Father
and ask Him what He sees.
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A personal story that will encourage every reader.
