From the beginning of time, you knew my name. Like a potter, you molded me into a vessel. Every detail designed in the very being I am. Yet, I find myself now with pieces left broken. I, the formless clay once held in your hand. Your Word, says you heal the brokenhearted - those needing to be made whole. It says you bind up every single wound. So, Mender of all brokenness found in me, I lay mine out before you. You gather all of me up so gently, this body bruised and soul despaired. A mind so worn and and a mind so weary. Tending to every ache and deep hurt, hidden within a heart that weighs so heavy. When my prayers have not been answered in the way or time I think it should. Or when the miraculous healing hasn’t yet come. Let my heart remain steadfast even though my life is becoming undone. I long for you to make me completely new, yet I’m reminded it’s your will, not mine. You take these shattered pieces of clay - And with a golden hue painted between the lines, they are being