In My Bed

The bed is soaked with my groanings.

The sheets are damp with my complaints.

My belly aches are tangled in white sheets.

How could this be God's grace?

The darkest moments are very bright now,

Though the blinds obscure all light from the window.

The beams pierce through the deep dark clouds.

They push through like lightning,

and break apart the thick walls I have built,

made from bricks shaped like white lies.

Soon, I see the reality of it all.

The pain I feel,

The darkness which surrounds me.

Is grace, indeed.

My senses are numb with self-centered cancer.

The sickness goes deeper than my belly.

It could be worse.

It should be worse.

Thank God for his amazing grace.