I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the earth brings forth its sprouts, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to sprout up before all the nations. Isaiah 62:10

The plant wilts and withers in the darkness of winter. Though the branches are bare and the grass no longer holds it’s color, it yet clings to a promise. The harsh winds scream. Death. Death.  At the deposition of the compost, of brown things, dirty and rotten. Beneath the stench. Below the things most foul. A grain of expectance. A tiny seed of assurance lies dormant, cold, and alone.  The drip of a tear. The warm rays of a smile. The Thaw. From granule to bud. Broken to whole. Loss of self to a name. His burial to resurrection. The beauty in death is the life that it brings. 

whatshouldwecallme:

If you can’t make boundaries for yourself now when you aren’t married, what makes you think things will be different when you are?