Abba Father,
Our Cottage is facing a hurricane,
I’m drawn to the ocean it’s always the same.
The wilder the waves, saltier the air,
More of me feels my soul stripped bare.
This morning Lord, at the dawn of day,
Please peel this red-hot anger away,
Cleanse the wounds that fester and stink,
Doctor and bind them, show me the links,
So I can heed all You have to say,
After days of denial the connection break way.
I’ve been too afraid to face my truth,
What’s hidden beneath, the ugly roots.
But if ever I’m to soar again,
Evil here cannot be allowed to win.
Here’s my hand, please hold it tight,
Help me through a storm dark as night.
At last when the sun does rise,
Your life in me will be the prize.
In my pain and suffering I confess,
Thinking of You as somehow less,
Than as a God who’d not only understand,
Or a God here to hold my hand.
But as a God trying to break my heart,
Ripping and tearing me completely apart.
Yet, together we’ll face the deepest wounds in me,
Because You’re the God who has set me free.
Forgive me for my shortsightedness,
I praise You Lord, You never cease to bless,
Even when I fail You in times like this,
You’re the God who for me has the best.
Now, no matter how fierce this storm,
You and I will be in Your finest form,
For in the end You’ve enclosed the ring,
The Master of my life is Creator of all good things.
               dfav 9/2/16

—Donna