Healing Rain:/MICHAEL W. SMITH

Stand motionless with my hands raised, In surrender with my face lifted to seek yours. Your healing rains begin to pour over my body, And in my upturned face, soaking me to the depths of my soul, cleaning old wounds, touching and healing old hurts that I did't even realize were there, Father, I give my sorrow, for your joy, And I give you my ashes, for your beauty. Slowly, I begin to spin, And a smile breaks the mask I've always worn, shattering it into million pieces. Uncontrolled laughter bubbles up from within me. As I take your hand, Jesus, and we begin to dance once again. (By Diana)

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