He’s an ointment I rub into the places
that ache or irritate.
I rub Him in deep
the relief isn’t always immediate.
He sits with me in the rage
and waits for me to finish
He’s quiet and accepting because
this too shall pass
I was created first and foremost
Just for Him.
So until Him, I’m not my fullest me.
He takes my hand
which I’ve pulled away a few times because
shame, loneliness, anger, regret…
they’re all so real and have left their marks.
But He reaches again for my hand.
And this time I don’t fight.
He is, and because He is, I can be, just be.