
Postpartum
PostpartumI’m not who I once wasIt’s been six weeks nowThose high waisted jeans folded neatly in a pile are calling my name, but we just
PostpartumI’m not who I once wasIt’s been six weeks nowThose high waisted jeans folded neatly in a pile are calling my name, but we just
Gift giving. It’s one of the 5 love languages. It’s a part of all of our lives, but, too often than not, culture tells us
Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. These are the
You turned the dust of my sin Into steady ground for blessing You laid a firm foundation on the shattered rumbles of my broken heart
The universe proves your existence Immeasurable, innumerable, unconceivable No eyes to comprehend because everything in our world seems to have an end Perspective You shrunk
The only one that can heal me Is the one from which I hide The other whispered in my ear, and I thought you had
Death Who can escape it?Who can erase it? Never part of our original designSeparation will never feel rightSorrow continues on through the nightEach day gripped
love you more than all need you more than all want you more than all do everything with you obey, though it cost my life
My love for you is boundless Many waters cannot contain In a sea of millions, You stand alone among the same Your smile is my