Her Servant Heart

woman holding flower

This is for the Proverbs women, because you are worth far more than rubies.

She carries eternity in her starry eyes because she is well-loved by her Father and she only does what she sees Him doing. She has come to know the only language to pay attention to is the pure sound of love and patience. Sometimes she does experience pain because it is God himself who has softened her heart and created her nurturing nature. She can rise to her purpose when she remembers where her strength comes from and steps forward with grace and diligence.

She drinks from the fresh well of repentance and forgiveness. She can value her own thumbprint because she knows the one who created a variety of colorful flowers and deposited a different song in every heart. She becomes confused when she looks around her but as-long as she looks up she gets His affirming, loving wink and she is never lost.

She sees far ahead into a place where sorrows have drowned and peace flows like a river. Her only compass is the still small voice in her heart and the smooth velvet check in her spirit is her safety. She scouts the earth for signs of hope…for the crisp green leaves that always reappear after the storms, guided by her True North only. She colors her world in different shades of beauty and paints a bright picture of things to come.

Every morning she puts her apron on under the gaze of her ever present Daddy and it molds around her like a garment of praise as she steps out in her peace pumps to light the way and serve with a vengeance. She often has to remind herself that perfection is but a nasty myth that will gobble up her joy and it is only God’s grace that will see her through the day. Her heart is comforted by a beautiful Leonard Cohen song that speaks to all broken people.

‘Ring the bells that still can ring,
forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack, a crack in everything
but that’s how the light gets in.’

She can smile at the days to come because ultimately she knows, it is not about what she leaves others, it is about what she leaves in them and it is oh so pleasant to do in her Master’s most fabulous apron. Her faith is not a sweltering flame, but a slow humble lamplight shining through a windowpane.

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