I’m not afraid of your misery. I’m not afraid your wounds will stain the whiteness of my robe. I’m not looking for the healthy and the perfect. I’m taking you in my arms, careful not to make your aching places hurt more. To heal them. To turn them into the place of meeting Me and the others. To make you shine with My love.
And I’m not discouraged by your empty hands. The emptier they are, the more I can fill them. Come and hold them out.
I’m waiting for you.
Categorised in: Margaret