Sad

Sad When you get up each, and, every day… in pain! The world is a hard place. It can be mental, physical, emotional. It does not matter. More often than not, it is all of the above at the same time. They each carry, a very special kind of ache. Grief, loss and slow poison, to even the bravest, among the many. Bleeding out in plain sight, people walking by…blind and un-sympathetic. Our blinders are built from our own materials. The emotions of our past, the pains of our present, and the lost hope of our futures. The blocks are carved from stones we picked up, to carry and make our own. The quarry, ever in darkness, where evil dwells. Why? Unworthy, disbelief, lacking in the faith of “His” perfection. His hands are ever ready to catch… all that fall. They are the healing, saving, grace-filled hands of the Master. He knows every thought, every heart-break… He walks beside you, and I. He waits to hear us speak. He is patient. He is. “He.”