Mysteriously someone scribbles a sentence on the prayer board in our prayer center reflecting on the theme and the various scriptures and visual art. It’s like small gifts for one who helped put the center together. It pleases me that people are inspired to use it and use it as a vehicle in which to speak to God privately before, during and after service without any audience. It’s anonymous and safe. Sometimes, what they write breaks my heart.
Like the person who felt like they don’t fit in anywhere.
I want to pluck that sentence from their head, but I don’t know who wrote it. Instead, I write a response next to it for the person to find—a gift for a gift. I write that he or she is loved. It feels inadequate like a band aid on a sliced artery. It feels trite, but I can’t leave it alone. I can’t walk away and go on with my normal Sunday. Even now, the words linger reminding me what I have so often heard that every person is fighting a hard battle.
Sometimes, writing down the thing in your head helps in the healing process. It helps to differentiate what is real and what is contrived. It gets it out so you can walk away from it and work on the healing process. Sometimes, we take it with us.
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