I did not write this because I stopped crying. I wrote itbecause I finally stopped treating every tear as evidence thatI was still broken.Some prayers were spoken. Some were groans. Some werein a language only God could interpret. Some happenedbehind doors where people thought they knew my story, butthey did not know what I carried in secret.If you hear my voice in these pages, may it always lead youto His. I am not inviting you to admire my pain. I am invitingyou to witness what Jesus can build from surrendered pieces.
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