He nursed my heart back to health after finding it bruised and weary. Maybe I played too hard or left it out in the cold. Either way, he found it, cradling it in his hand. Then he smoothed out the rough, dry places until it became soft and smooth once again.
"Yet you, LORD, are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand."
3 weeks ago