I rise this morning, tired and weary, to another day of battle.
Before I face it, I sleepily enter into the folds of Your garment.
You stand with arms open to me.
I shuffle forward and feel Your warmth surround me.
In this secret, sweet place
there is no fear
there is no want
there is no worry
there is no confusion
there is no weakness.
Here I rest my head against the heart that I broke.
The heart that now beats strong for me.
The arms that stretched wide to receive my punishment
The hands that were pierced to cleanse mine
softly stroke my hair.
The head of Jesus, once bloodied by torture and ridicule
bends down to mine with a kiss,
breathing new life through my being
To start another day.