Those hands threw the stars into place.

I stood there, in the courtyard. Today it was strange. The birds flew by overhead in a V formation, just as they did before I left for Ireland. There was bright, thick paint on the tiles beneath me and I began spreading it with my hands, painting with my fingers, at His feet. The colors swirled together and the watery paint splashed all over me, covering my hands. He held out His hand to me, it too was covered in paint. I held my hand up to His, as if measuring the size of it to His. His hand was rough, and strong, but it was also gentle. My hand was small held up to His. "You are mine." He said. I tipped back my head and laughed out of sheer delight. Once again I began painting on the ground till suddenly I was overcome with where I was and whose presence I was in. I put my head down and bowed before Him in the messy paint. He stood up and walked over to me. He picked my hands and brought me to my feet. Then, He danced with me. We danced there with the paint under our feet. It began to rain, and we continued dancing. He said to me, "I am awakening your heart."

Though everything was beautiful, I felt strange, and out of sorts. I felt like something was wrong. I left him, I left the courtyard and I returned in the doorway with my scrappy quilt hugged close around my body. I stood there and began crying. He came and without saying anything He wrapped His arms around me. He just held me. I was hit with the realization of all the sin in my life and the ugly thoughts I had been harboring. "I'm sorry" I sobbed. He continued to hold me. Those malicious thoughts, those gossiping words, the anger kept inside...I didn't deserve to be near Him. He held me out and looked at my face, He said to me, "You must forget all the ways you have been wronged in the past, you cannot keep holding onto them and condemning those people." I was looking down at the ground and it was then that I noticed the dirt around my wounds, the wounds covering my arms - they were grimy and needed new bandages. He gently touched them and said "Look, this is what the bitterness does to you." I knew I should let Him wash them and make them better, but I didn't have the strength to respond. Then I saw words beginning to appear on my arms. They were ugly words, things I was associating myself with that I shouldn't, condemning words that I had named myself. "Worthless...ugly...incomplete..." they covered my arms. He lifted his hands, and it was then I realized it wasn't paint they were covered with, but blood. He took His hands and rubbed them on my arms, the words smeared away...and with water He washed them clean. "You are mine." He repeated.

Then the pastor repeated a verse, he said loudly, "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." {Romans 8:1}