Fighter

she’s a fighter
because she doesn’t give up when the hard days come,
and the tear tracks are still fresh on her face.
she’s a fighter
because she doesn’t give up when her dreams are shattered,
and her heart’s been battered all over again.
she’s a fighter
because she doesn’t give up when there’s nothing left but the broken pieces,
and she gives it all to God anyway.

he’s a fighter
because he doesn’t give up when they turn their backs,
and he’s left alone with insults ringing in his ears.
he’s a fighter
because he doesn’t give up when his hands are empty,
and he has nothing but trust to lean on.
he’s a fighter
because he doesn’t give up when life turns and slaps him hard across the face,
and he still praises God in the storm.

you’re a fighter
because you don’t give up when the battle is rough,
and you still know how to count your blessings.
you’re a fighter,
because you don’t give up when all your efforts look like failures,
and your only refuge is the moment your knees touch the ground.
you’re a fighter
because you don’t give up when your world comes crashing down,
and you’ve got a fire burning bright in your soul.

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Day Twenty-Four: Broken Things

Broken Things

People all have
broken things.
Broken memories
and broken lives
and broken hearts.

And sometimes they sit there
and dwell on those broken things.
They pick up the jagged edges,
tenderly stroke crumbled pieces of what once was,
and they stare at their brokenness.

They just stare at it.

But I think they forget sometimes–
oh, how they forget–
that God can fix even the broken things…
and he can make a masterpiece.

Oh, how they forget–
God can take the broken things
and make something even more magnificent than
before.

Oh, how they forget–
it’s in the broken things that
miracles happen. It’s from the broken things
that beauty emerges.

God loves the broken things too.

 

 

Day Eight: So Lonely Am I

So Lonely Am I

Lonely, so lonely am I,
so broken, so broken inside.

Once, my spirit was free, so free
but now, so lonely am I.

The peacefulness of solitude is gone,
replaced with an obscure emptiness.

Am I forever to be plagued
by this vague, vague sense of loneliness?

By the lingering silence
my soul laments, so lonely am I!

In this desolate emptiness,
my timid voice cries out,

So forsaken, so forsaken am I?
So abandoned, so abandoned am I?

It is here on my knees,
does He hear me.

It is here on my knees,
does He comfort me.

It is here on my knees,
the emptiness is filled.

It is here as I cry,
so lonely, so lonely am I.

It is here I feel His presence.