Letter to Him: Thank you, for Your Grace.


Dear Dad,

I HAVE to begin, this way, Father, letting You know how very ‘dear’ You are, to me.

I love You. With ALL of my heart, mind, soul, and spirit.

I just wanted to, take just a moment, to let You know, how much I appreciate Your Grace and Your Unmerited Favor.

I need them, both, now. Grace, to walk these next days. Favor, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, my pieces, my broken pieces, will be able to reach others, reach THEIR broken pieces. In time, to get them, to The Cross. So, they can be healed. So, they can be made whole.

Jesus came. In order for us, to have life. And, that life, more abundantly. Yet, we live disjointed lives, shattered lives.

Lives, shattered, by our own words. Or, shattered, from the words of others. Jesus, came to bind the broken hearted.

Help me, Father. To reach them. If these words, my words, can be of ANY assistance to You, for You, to reach teach and heal but one soul. Oh that I had the cache, the cash to do so. I would.

What, would I say to them, You ask, if I had Your Microphone?

I would say these words:

Isaiah 61: 1-4: The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;

To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.

I would end, with these words:

We are, all of us, broken:

By, circumstances.

By, our own hands.

By, the hands of others.

Yet, there IS good news:

We, are loved. We, are not, alone. We, are seen. We, are heard. God loves you.




Let, Him.

Let, others.

Let, you.

Forgive, yourself.

Forgive, others.

We, are all, broken.

Hurt people. Hurt, people.

We have hurt, one another.

It is time. For, healing. It is time. For you to accept the Unmerited Favor of God’s Grace, His Love, for YOU.

That’s what I would say, Father, if given Your Microphone. In the meantime, I just wanted to say…

Thank you, for Your Grace.

I love you, Father. Thanks for loving me.

Your Daughter,


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