Ashes

I sat in the raw that day.
A phone call of unrehearsed, unprepared and unspoken real.
Where your mind searches for answers and you know there are no answers to give.
You listen and you sit in their now.
You listen and feel every turn of the stomach.
You listen and feel every streak of the tear.

"Give me the words God, give me the words." played on repeat in my mind.

His voice was clear, "You know the story to tell."
"No God.  I don't like that story."

"Tell it.  There's a reason it was your phone that rang."
"But God...."
"There is a reason those chapters in your story happened.  I make beauty from ashes, remember?  While you can't see the colorful beauty in it, I can.  Offer your ashes."

We often don't the 'why' of what we face.
We do know that God works all things to good if we love Him.

You may be in the thick of the muck and the mire.
You may be barely keeping your head above the quicksand sucking you down.
Or maybe your story has more miles in the rear-view mirror than you ever want to talk about.
Because you'd rather not talk about it thankyouverymuch.

Your chapter - your story - your ashes, hold beauty.
Even if the story is still being written, there is buried beauty that will emerge.

Offer your ashes.

Even if you can't see how a pile of ashes can be anything but dusty, offer your ashes.
You aren't the artist.
God is.

See what beauty rises.
For He makes all things beautiful.
He makes all things new.