Grace

It's 10 PM. She faithfully kneels down to pray. In the privacy of the darkness, she shows You her heart, scars and all. She dares not lift her head. But I can still see the tears streaming down her beautiful face. I would have thought that, by now, You would know when, where and how to meet her. If it were up to me, this would be the last time she would cry. These would be her last tears... If it were up to me, this would be the last time that she would fight with grief.

I'm startled when I hear her say my name, in the midst of her sobs. Perhaps she has noticed I was listening in on her intimate moments? Finally, I understand. It is not her personal grief that wears her down. She is scarred because she is fighting for my life. She chose to bear my burden. So, in a way, it is up to me...