Family embrace - 8. Chapter 8

When Heaven Meets The Valley

The hush before the Holy Hallelujah,

Where shadows stretch and silence swells,

I knelt in the pit of despair beneath the mountain of redemption,

The pit seemed so far from where redemption dwells.

But then- not thunder, nor flames, nor trumpeter's roar,

Just a whisper stirring through the trees,

A breeze that's warm and inviting found my fractured soul and stitched it back together,

A grace too tender and loving to define.

The valley clung with painful haunting fingers,

Tangled vines of doubt and ache,

Whispers of you're not worthy of love, happiness, joy,

A heaviness too painful and real to be fake.

But Heaven's grace didn't flinch or falter,

Instead it stepped into the pain and shame of the cilice garter I wore.

And robes of mercy were draped onto my shoulders in silence,

Love bathed the floor of the valley where I laid.

I didn't rise in strength of glory,

No trumpet pulled me from the mud,

Just the kindness of a savior's presence,

Who saw my true heart and chose to stay.

I held the alabaster jar with trembling fingers,

Counting the drops I'd dared to spare, But love called not for rationed worship.

It asked me: Will you meet me there?

I answered by throwing caution out the door,

And smashing the jar.

The jar held not the nard of nations,

But grace purified through fire and pain,

It spilit across the valley's shame and silence.

Instead of Heaven kissing earth again it kissed me.