I'm sitting on my front porch, in the dark, listening to the rain. It is lovely. The air is cool and damp, but this damp is the hopeful damp of spring. It is nurturing the trees and flowers, new life, emergence even now in the night. To chase the night chill, a hot cup of tea provides the perfect remedy.
I am reminded that I have gone through one of the hardest transformations of my life. This ability to sit here alone in the quiet symphony of raindrops unafraid is a part of a new me. I am being molded and re-shapen - the broken clay in the Potter's hands. I have hope that He is making something beautiful among the ruins. I don't know how I ever took that first step off of that cliff, but I can testify to the Everlasting Arms that caught me.
I am surrounded by His all-encompassing love. There are things I am starting to hope for my future, and my soul asks of Him, "Could You really be that good?"
I am not sure how the journey was made from utter hopelessness to one of such promise and peace, but let my life be a testimony. Yes, He really is that good.