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….