“For she said, ‘If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.'”

-The Woman losing hope

Father does not bring forth wounds. It isn’t in His nature. But He is a craftsman in the fine art of stitching. Flawless.

We are born with them. From the point of conception they are a haunting specter. Upon birth they are a part of human nature. They start small and few. As the years pass away, they grow in size… and number. Some more severe than others. Some come natural. Some are self induced. One would ask “Why would one want to volunteer themselves to this?” Because they are addicted to chaos? Because they hunger for attention, perhaps? It is mysterious, is it not?

We pray for the people to recognize that this is not normal. That for mankind to walk about, greeting each other with open wounds and admiring the bloodshed, is not how it was meant to be. It is our natural status of default, but it is not our original design. We pray for parents that have been there, knowing what will adorn the heart of the child. The disease that is birthed. Festering. They only know the difference because they have seen the needle and the thread. So many are still jaded. Perplexed at the bloodshed that stains their world and all those that enter therein. Why are we all bleeding so? Why is our child following us in this torment? Why? Why? WHY?!

Those that wear the scars know why they bleed. They know where these wounds come from. They know Who they must seek to stitch the children. They know Who stitched them. They know Who they must touch to tighten the loosening threads. Deception would find us if we were to believe that the fingers of the Dark Ones were never to again slither across each one. A desire to make us bleed again. 

Only the Master is skilled. No one can stitch our wounds with Love. No one can seal our deepest caverns with Mercy. No one can stop the bleeding with Forgiveness. Laceration bows his head in shame before Grace. Only the Master is skilled. No one else can weave this thread. No one.

Father does not bring forth wounds. It isn’t in His nature. But He is a craftsman in the fine art of stitching. It is the scars that He leaves in the wake of His touch. Reminding us of where we have been. Of what we bore within. 

Thankful we should forever be.