The Wounded Heart

Can you hear me, God?

I'm not acceptable to my friend. "How can that be?" I wonder. And yet, that is what was said.

My heart hurts. In whose eyes does the rejection matter anyway? Not yours. Only mine, I guess.

My mind goes back to days where nothing was acceptable in my life. And then there came a kind of peace that enfolded me when I discovered that I was acceptable to you even though I was badly broken. The truth was that it was because I was broken I turned to you and found the sweetness and joy no other can provide.

And as long as we're talking about truth, maybe the statement just showed me how unacceptable I am to myself. I work on that daily. You know that. But in a moment of carelessness, all that work seems to have vaporized. In reality I know it didn't. The wounded heart can't see. It can only feel the pain.

I will sleep now... waiting for a brighter tomorrow. Heal my heart. Make me whole.