It was raining,
Not a quiet shower,
But a fierce pounding on
The window storm,
Demanding to be heard.
The bed felt big,
I felt small,
And so alone.
Nighttime heightens
Everything:
The rain,
The pain,
The by-myselfness.
My hands can't keep
Busy to distract me like
In the daytime,
And only my thoughts
Keep working.
So I forced myself
To focus them on Him.
I pictured Him right
Beside me
Tending to my needs,
Pouring ointment
On my wounds
And binding them up
With His bands of
Love.
I imagined Him winding
The soft gauze
Around, and
Around, and
Around the tender
Spot inside.
The quiet movement
Continued on and on
In the dark,
Calming my spirit,
Giving me peace
Until the rain faded away
And I was lulled back
To sleep.
(So much better than
Counting sheep.)
"He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds." Psalm 147:3