He begins to pour his heart out to You, because of me
and within each pause, can’t help but think of her:
the little girl who, in me, makes her humble abode.
Flooded memories shroud me for a moment until I hear,
“You said You would give beauty for ashes
and I pray that for her, Lord.”
My mind freezes, caught in mid-thought like a child
who’s committed a bad act.
Beauty for ashes? Wait, can you do that, Lord? says the mini-me.
Or, maybe it’s the adult me.
The 29-year-old who still sleeps with a cotton-stuffed feline,
and dreads procrastination like the Black Plague.
The one who still listens to High School Musical
and VeggieTales tunes while drowning out that voice
that says “If you could handle this on your own,
I wouldn’t have told you to ‘cast all of your cares upon Me.’”
But Lord, so many scars and much pain I have.
I hear him speak to You, “Be her Father, God.”
My heart freezes in my chest, afraid to hope, yet
The adult in me curiously wonders: Daddy Jehovah?
Beauty for ashes, that’s what You promised me.
A part of me is skeptical cuz we’ve been down this road before,
But somehow, it’s different this time.
This time, I think I may actually believe You.
Ashes from the past, burned thoroughly, never to live again.
Condemnation and shame are no more, You’ve made me new.
Beauty. Immaculate. Can You, Lord,
make me beautiful inwardly and outwardly too?
I guess, in spite of emotions and contradicting evidence,
I’ll have to trust You and continuously learn
to let You really love me, truly and unconditionally.