As she is overwhelmed by the pain of her wounds and the pain of her broken heart, she pours out her tears. Her wails ask Him where His lovingkindness is, where He has gone. Does He not see? Where are You? What have I done? The tears pour hot to the ground, to the dry, barren ground. As the streams flow from her heart toward her God, the thirsty, cracked desert drinks deeply.
Seeds long forgotten, buried deep, are awakened by the flow. As she lays on the ground, at His mercy, the only hope she has left, she feels a softness under her fingers. She opens her eyes, dimly, and sees a transformation beginning all around her barren place. Shoots of fresh, green growth have enveloped her and begin to rise upward, reaching to the sky. As her body is cooled and nourished by the vegetation, she gains her strength. All around her a beautiful garden has sprung up. She hears footsteps coming toward her. In the cool of the evening, He has come, as in days of old, where intimate friendship was worked out in the very first garden. Suddenly she realizes, that her lament was not only hers, but His.
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