Collecting wounds, Letting go

There are faces all around me Lord
They come before me

each day

In my office

as if by accident 

on the street

in homes visited

as one who would

however poorly, represent the love of God

Young faces, firm and flushed with health

Old faces, tired and lined

Joyful faces, expectant one

and then those other faces

Angry or sad

Hopeless and empty

Some faces Lord haunt me

They cry out

One face cries for help,

As cancer eats at the body below it

Another face cries for peace

And as story of anxiety and concern spills forth

A story shared over coffee and cookies

A face cries for forgiveness,

As it spills forth anguish

About children who are struggling

Lord

I collect those hurts and wounds

I cannot help it

They are given to me as a gift

And I am asked to carry that hurt in my heart

And at times I am weighed down by the load

Slowly pressed down by the precious burdens

With which I have been gifted.

Help me to remember lord

That those hurts are not mine to keep

or solve

Only mine to carry gently, briefly

And then

place in your healing hands