Monday, January 10, 2011

First letter. I.

Dear Illness,

You do your best to tear things apart. You don't stop your rampage when affect a body. No, you go much, much deeper than that. You seep into hearts. You stroll into homes filled with families, memories and laughter and take a seat where you don't belong. You dance through churches full of people praying to be rid of you. You aren't satisfied with tears, sorrow or heartache. You aim for one thing. You run wild throughout a person until death is seen as the only answer. You think you're going to win. You feel like your infection and disease will be victorious. You. Are. So. Wrong.

You see, as you seep into hearts, walls are thrown up to keep you out. As you stroll into living rooms full of giggles and conversation, you are overlooked and ignored. As the church doors swing open for you to rush in, you are halted by the whispers, shouts and arms raised in praise to your Enemy. You are shocked. Disturbed. Powerless.

You never win. You were defeated long, long ago. As blood poured down a rough, harsh cross, you were overcome. You lost all of your power. Your sting was left dripping down to the ground beneath my Savior. You can't destroy. You can't harm. You can't bring end to anything. He WON. He wins. He. Will. Win. You might as well give up.. His people know Him. His children know His beautiful heart. They know that He is love. His people know you will be defeated in the end. You will be lost as feet land on streets of gold and in front of a throne surrounded by angels shouting praise. You lose. While you may think you are breaking apart hearts, families and lives, you are really just showing the mighty power of my God. My love. My protector. You are thrown off by the Creator of all things beautiful. He wins. That's that.

A daughter of the Healer, Comforter and great Physician.

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