I was, I am Sara Jayne

Yesterday, in response to Emily's word prompt food I wrote about a young girl named Sara Jayne. Comments I received touched a place deep inside:

Kelly wrote:

i would love to scoop up that little Sara Jayne and whisper in her ear that she is lovely and loved. that she is not only her body, but that she can rise above all that her body holds her to by holding a firmer Hand. one that never lets go.
this is how to fly.

and Elizabeth said:

So so tender. I pray for healing for the spirit of this child and those who share this place of pain. Gently AND beautifully told. Thank you for calling to mind these places we go as humans of missing how much we are loved by him, right where we are. 

Yes, the words reached straight into my wounded soul and it astounds me how much shame I feel in admitting that though her name is fiction, her story is mine.

when there appeared to be no way out

caught in a vertiginous cycle of hating self

driven by hungers nothing could quench

grasping anything that might be approval

validation or love

He Was, He watched, He waited

There is a love that surpasses dreams

in His perfect timing

my eyes could see

and I fell breathless into His embrace

today I pray

don't let me wander far

or look for anything but Him

to satisfy the aching, reaching empty place

He designed to occupy with Himself

may I never lose this hunger

this wanting more of Him