Ripped up pages made of promises

That I could never keep

Torn up bits of “should have dones”

Lie dormant at my feet

Shreds of all that now remains

Of my tattered dignity

Crumpled, roarless paper tigers

That once scared the life from me

What to do with such a mess, this litter on the floor

The paper dolls of ought and not, not connected any more

I did not know what good could come

From the purging of my heart

The History pages torn and bent

Where does one even start?

I gathered everything I could

The pile grew and grew

And placed the mess in Jesus’ hands

Watched to see what He would do

What do you do with brokenness

With its residual disarray?

I thought for sure He’d crumple it

And throw it all away.

Or take the tiny, torn up bits

And torch them with a flame

To burn away the scattered parts

Of what once held my name

But no one could have told me

(Nor would I have believed)

What Jesus did with all that mess

The bits that He’d retrieved.

He took them all inside His hands

And held them toward the sky

Then with a breath, He blew on them

And they began to fly!

Colored pieces without purpose

Looked like something new

The rips and tears looked softer now

Against the heaven’s hues

What once was tattered messiness

Took beauty all its own

In the form of sweet confetti

Floating toward the great unknown

Randomness turned lovely

Nothing unused in the waste
No piece was lost and peace was found

When my mess was touched by Grace….