It's a knock at the door.It's an invitation in the mail,a nudge: "Call me."And when I do,such sweet relief.Not a burden, but a bequest:A bouquet of forget-me-nots,disguised as pain.I thank You for keeping me mindfulof that which is greater than me.You in my sufferings,in my struggles,in my sorrow,raise me higherwith every ache.   Read next feature >