Twelve.


“Speak,” You whisper to me a little louder than the time before that.
“But I know what happens if I do that, I think.”
“But do you, child? I go far beyond you. And I speak in ways that you cannot comprehend. You trust Me. You love Me. So you follow, dear child. I know you well.”
“It’s been 12 years since they told me I had cancer. 12 years. Why in the world am I still here? Why not in the world am I still here? What do I even know of love? I am but nothing. You are everything. All for You.”

And so the words come. They come in the form of stories of dying cancer patients, and they come of my own frailty. They come of what healing really is, and how deeply Satan wants for us to fall away. They bite and they guide, and they are not mine. The peace consumes me and it’s far beyond me. Something that I cannot grasp as if the mist of a summer storm greets my soft cheeks. I remember my Jesus. I remember what lives within me. And I let it all go. To be fully abandoned, and lost to myself. And, grace abounds.

As I walk away and marvel at 12 years, I don’t think forward or back. I look my Jesus in the eyes, and I say without a thought: “Thank You.” With a smile I can almost touch, He says: “My little one, well done.”

I am so free to live. So free to be me.

…because love wins.

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