to tell the tale

it seems my heart is trying to find abalance

(interesting that I write that as one word, without a space, a-balance)

between being grounded

and flying, even with

broken wings

a balance

between rooted

and free

so that I could claim

I am abalance now

but perhaps that is not

His aim

and He keeps me

off kilter to remember

my need of Him

He Is, then, my Balance

my Grounding, my Freedom

again and again I write

of brokenness, of longing

of surrender to

His hand, His design

I am His creation

unfinished, ever imperfect

He Is not done yet

and He made me

to create, but I don't

create my self, rather submit

to His creating

so that I might tell the tale

weaving through Dave Harrity's Making Manifest with Sandy and

walking in imperfection with Emily