my Jesus,
you are the socks to my cold feet
you are my time to an endless week
you are morning after the darkest night
you are my solid ground even at the greatest height.
I'm peering down a fortnight-long tunnel, and it looks cold, ugly, bleak: assignments for miles, work work work, money-less, time-less, boyfriend-less. But because I know the Lord of lords, because I am the beloved daughter of a King, because I am the chosen bride of a heavenly Man, it shall not be joy-less, it shall not be hopeless, and I shall be far from lonely. And my life is as simple as that.
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