I was watching and I saw when all those perfect gifts you brought, beautifully wrapped too, were torn open in an instant and tossed aside in a heap with all the brightly colored paper, bows, and ribbons left to be trampled on then carried away with the trash. How devastating. You must have felt shocked, hurt, angry, and very sad. All those hours getting ready for this party, the months of hope and anticipation of the big reveal almost, almost as though waiting for a new baby you had already been calling Joy, and all of it burnt out quicker than a shooting star, as if you didn’t matter.
Your precious gifts were salvaged, gathered and placed carefully on the altar atop fair linen embroidered with silver threads of love and compassion. Your glorious righteous anger, a glowing white-hot orb shooting out rays of piercing gold, placed in the center. The pall-covered chalice, not quite empty, sits to the right waiting to be filled to overflowing again with fizzy hope. A paten of hosts made of wheat and water, your strength and indomitable spirit baked in, rests on a hemp corporal. Tapers with fresh wicks wait to be sparked by the inextinguishable flame within you. These offerings of yours are worshipped and adored here, safe and ready for you to take back when you are rested from this trial.
You will shine again. The gash in your heart will be washed with strips of the purest cotton dipped in healing waters. The wound will heal, leaving a jagged scar. The candles will be lit, and you will sip with reverence from the chalice moistening parched lips. You will dissolve a dry host in your mouth renewing a steadfast spirit. You will take that glowing orb back out into the world and beam its protective light wherever it is needed.
You are a survivor. You always were, you always will be. Your priceless gifts are worth more than all the pretend riches in the world. We need you. We always did, we always will.
Divine Ready 