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The Garden

In this hour of doubt I see
Who I am is not just me
So give me strength to die myself
So love can live to tell the tale

Listening to this song on our drive home tonight brought to mind some close ones who are currently in “the garden”. It’s when the trial is at a crisis point and there’s nothing to do but sit up all night and pray your own blood sweat and tears right out of your skin. And while that might not be a literal translation of their exact circumstances, it’s in their hearts that they have to face the sacrifice of their own selves so that “Love may live to tell the tale”. I find myself in the position of those close to Jesus who were asked to sit up with him to pray that night. And just like them, I know I’ve fallen asleep on the job from time to time. But oh those moments when I pay attention and my heart breaks and mends in the same moment from the sheer weight of the burden and the overwhelming mercy that abounds.
Sometimes you just have to stop and pop the heads off dandelions.

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