Because what I really want to say is that I love You, Lord. I want You to know. Somehow. That I am Yours, and that I give all that I am and all this life could possibly be right to You. And I reach my arms up high, my Jesus, to wrap them tight around Your neck, and to cover Your dear face with a thousand kisses. I am human, and fallen, and hurting, and sinning. Yet...You gather me. And though I cringe that I am covered in dung and stink and...Bernadette, You throw Your head back and laugh because You delight in Your children. Your love makes me cry, Lord. You are impossible. You are the God of the impossible.
The God of me,
Bernadette
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