In the Garden of Vulnerability

In the Garden of Vulnerability, I AM.

In the Garden of Vulnerability, I enter alone.  The decibel of chaos and clamor around me rings loud and sharp.  The voices in my head and the fears of my heart entangle and suffocate.  Bitterness and disappointment invade my wounds.  Anger and resentment are the adrenalin of my soul.  My body aches with hopelessness.  Resignation to nothingness paralyzes me.

In the Garden of Vulnerability, I AM.

In the Garden of Vulnerability, I anchor.  My mind empties, sweating through the release of my control and my rights.  My heart bleeds as one by one I remove the splinters and daggers of pain.  Grieving is the exorcist of loss.

In the Garden of Vulnerability, I receive.  The former home of my heart, a cave of darkness and emptiness, transforms into a haven of light and safety.  The decibel dims in the distance.  The message of pure Truth pierces the muddiness of confusion.  Shame and guilt give way to respect and acceptance.  The ogre of love is slain.  The process of grieving is consummated.  Closure to the past opens the door into the future. Cleansing washes through me like the balm of Gilead.  The noise from what has been released gives way to the stillness of harmony.  Newness and life replaces stench and death.    Thoughts of the mind focus on the purity of Truth.  Intents of the heart build on a platform of forgiveness.  My soul embraces that which is good.  Love is no longer a threat.

From within the Garden of Vulnerability, I step into a life worth living.  From within the Garden of Vulnerability, I live a life of giving.  I can embrace loving and being loved.  I can risk knowing and being known.  Security and confidence emanate through my body, becoming the salt that flavors my words.  Hope becomes my foundation.  Purpose sets my motivation and propels me forward.

In the Garden of Vulnerability, I find I AM. 

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