For the ones holding onto the end of their rope. The ones coming up for air, hoping maybe solid ground is in sight, only to continue drifting without rescue. Rescue is coming.
The Lord saw me.
The Lord came near to me.
I cried out, and while the waves still crashed around me, He held me.
Raw and broken, He swam beside me.
I laid my forehead to the cold ground, hands open.
Over and over, I came to Him, broken.
He stayed with me.
I screamed silently as the smoke rose around me and my heart broke within me, and He listened compassionately.
I surrendered. Broken, bruised, out of air, yet relentlessly fighting for life.
And He restored me.
In moments at first. Seconds of peace before the storm raged again.
Then minutes, and hours.
He covered my wounds, spoke gently to my broken spirit.
I walked in the palm of His hand, protected from harm.
He covered me with grace and lifted me from my own ashes.
The waves stilled, the dry land appeared.
My heart grew calm and gained strength, my lungs filled with fresh air.
I will sing of His goodness and mercy.
I was pruned to bear fruit, and like a first morning stretch, my branches grow wide.
Praise God, companion in all seasons and faithful healer.
I am His forever.