Real. Smooth stones along the water’s edge remind my feet of the reality that life is hard. But, beautiful.
I walk the edges of the ocean, sea mist touches my cheeks and I know I am real. Here now, present. Bringing every painful moment under His subjection. Brokenness is not a reason to hide. But to confide in the one who hears the wind that blows through my hair. Who numbers my hair and commands the breeze that blows. I know the word real to be rugged, tender, rough and smooth. I know the word real because it defines me so well. Not a beautiful smooth stone but in His eyes, yes. Beautiful. Broken, special. Real. I accept each stone as a gift. Reminders, each…of His constancy.
Linking up with Gypsy Mama for 5 Minute Friday. It’s easy…well sometimes. Sometimes I sit and stare at my screen and then time is up! But that’s OK… it helps keep it real !