Sarah Sundin

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Sonetimes the hardest person to forgive is yourself

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Long ago she'd clamped an iron shell around her heart and nothing and no one could pry it lose, but deep inside the tender flesh still beat

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Brick walls towered over her. Decrepit staircases crowded about her. Nothing had changed. The line there, the lessons there, the rape there. Shouldn't the place be crimson with blood and black with shame?

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She raised her head and saw a squadron of fighter planes. She stretched her hand high as if she could grab hold and climb away from what she had done, from who she was

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Maybe that was the point of giving after all. He thought he'd given to fill others. He thought giving would allow others to fill him. But he'd had it wrong. Giving laid the holes bare and revealed his insufficiency to fill or be filled. To truly give, he had to lean wholly on God. The Lord alone could use him to help others, and the Lord alone could replenish his empty stores