And this heart just breaks and breaks, and bleeds and bleeds at the possibilities that could have been. And the agony just waves like nausea. This dying to pride, this dying to self, this surrendering, this realization that I am not God just breaks this heart open and open and open some more.


And I finally wash the barf filled cloths from Sunday. And I wash this ponytail-neglected hair and comb through the knots, comb through the knots of my life Lord. I am weak, so weak that I cannot even comb my own knots out.


Sooth this soul, assure this heart that your love goes beyond even this, even now. Assure this heart that your love goes deeper, that your love goes purer.


And I take back control in one quick motion, in a guise of reliant prayer. But your truth sees through my towers of Babel. Even in this your Spirit hovers over, hovers over my deep darkness and creates something new. Something fresh. Something alive. Hover over my darkness Lord, and create in me a clean heart.