the promise

He walked away and didn't smile
The man will leave
The boy will cry
To stand out in his freedom
But his freedom hasn't freed him

And they spoke in faith
They prayed their vows
Her broken face is longing now
To turn back the hands of time
But she doesn't know how

Four years ago today.
How time flies. How time crawls.

It's not that I wish my life was different.
I love my life. I love the person I've become in the last four years.
A person filled with more patience, more compassion, more understanding, more grace that I could ever have dreamed I would possess.
A person who has learned to see the beauty in the broken; who has learned to look for beauty scattered amongst the ashes.
A person who has learned that within the black and white lines of judgement, there needs to exist some space for the greys of empathy.

But there is a part of me that will never forget.
There is a part of me that will always wonder.

What about the promise that we made
And the vows we freely made before God
Wonder what he's thinking of...
The promise
The promise that we made

The longing heart, the searching soul
Will search and never find a home
'Til Jesus comes and takes control
And he takes the promises that you left behind
He resurrects the dead to life
And you can run but you can't hide from your life

Today, I'm breathing in the small mercies of a new day.
I'm breathing in mercy.
I'm breathing.

Safe in the home that this searching soul has found; this longing heart now resurrected and renewed; living again, loving again, I have learned that running, hiding from my life gets me nowhere. Pretending is futile; forgetting impossible. The promise was made. Broken, now, but that promise, those vows, were made. They cannot be unsaid.

And so, though most days he is far from my thoughts, I admit it:
Today, I wonder.

What about the promise that we made
And the vows we freely made before God
Wonder what he's thinking of...
The promise
The promise that we made

And although your heart is breaking now
Just let it go and let God turn it
Turn it all around, yeah
Turn it all around, yeah...

This is my story.
This is my past.
This is what has, in large part, shaped me into the person that I am.
And for that, for the journey here, for the lessons learned, for the hope gained, for the future to come, I am unspeakably grateful.

Oh the promise
The promise that we made

The Promise,
by Cindy Morgan