Tell me your story, show me your wounds
and I'll show you what love sees when love looks at you.
Hand me the pieces, broken and bruised
and I'll show you what love sees when love sees you.
I see your story. I see my name.
written on every beautiful page.
You see the struggle. You see the shame.
I see the reason I came.
I came for your story. I came for your wounds.
to show you what love sees when I see you.
What a wonderful thought on this ice covered Wed morning. "Blessed", he calls to me just as He did to the lepers, to the blind, the demon posessed, the broken hearted. He loves me the same. It's not finished. I don't have to wonder or worry about how the events of my life are playing out. I don't see the big picture. But He does:
I see what I made in your mother's womb
and I see the day I fell in love with you
I see your tomorrows, nothing left to chance
I see my Father's fingerprints.
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