Father in heaven, my heart is a maze,

Thoughts unravel in contradictory ways.

What I feel and do never align,

Like threads unspooling beyond my design.

I long for my children, for laughter and light,

For a home where love gathers, warm and right.

I dream of my granddaughter running free,

In a house filled with joy, with family, with me.

But my thoughts point fingers—quiet, precise,

At the man I chose, at the cost, at the price.

Two years in a camper, far from my own,

Twelve hundred miles, and feeling alone.

My emotions speak softer, tender and torn,

“They’re hurt,” they whisper, “since the day you were gone.”

“Apologize daily,” emotions press on my soul,

“And don’t leave your husband—divorce takes a toll.”

I’m caught in the middle of ache and of grace,

Of wanting to run, and wanting to stay in place.

I know that You care—my mind clings to that,

But waiting for rescue feels empty and flat.

Jesus wept—You wept—You feel this ache.

You stand in the silence that sorrow can make.

So here is my cry, my breath, my prayer:

God of my soul, meet me there.