I had left the window open so she could breathe..

My fortitude, my fortress. Forgive my foolish ways..

You lift me lightly from my dreams at dawn..

Desolation in the land. Father, what am I to do?

Feathery reassurance of God’s wings wrapped firmly around her...

I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am like clay. The Lord spins me around in His hands, molding me on the potter’s wheel.