Unfinished

She opened up her hands and pressed them against the cold tiles of the shower wall. She took in the feeling of the scorching hot water penetrating her back. She rested her forehead between her fingertips. Her body was claiming defeat. She let the tears roll down her cheeks. No shaking, no sobbing, just tears. She stood there in silence, feeling her chest tighten, feeling the hot water against her bare back, feeling the cold wall against her furrowed brow. Her mind ran rampant with fragmented thoughts; nothing cohesive, nothing coherent. She so desperately wanted to go back in time. Back to a time when every moment mattered. Back to a time when her tears were empty and her heart was full. She let this thought consume her until she remembered the words of her friend; a gentle and beautiful reminder, “God’s not finished with me yet.” And of course, He wasn’t.

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