Washed With Tears

There were tears on my face as I sat with back to you on the boat, my soul writhing in anguish, burning pain rising in my throat. Who wants to fish away from home when she just laid her little boy beneath the dank, dark, heavy ground? No fish of size would bring me joy should it attack my tempting bait. You did not understand, though you loved each of us--both him and me; he was not flesh of your flesh. True it is, I was angry...angry at you for wanting me to go. You thought this trip would do me good, but fishing is your thing, you know. There were burning tears on my face, as I sat trying to forgive you; God helped me and for love I did, the love that gives all lives value. No bitterness can be allowed to cause his memory to dim. Those tears have wafted on the wind, blending with love to write a hymn that sings in sunshine or in rain, across the miles, across the years: I find forgiveness easier since my sad heart was washed by tears. Copyright, Faye Lanham Gibson May 21, 2014