Blessed Assurance, Jesus is Mine

This is my story, this is my song.  

Praising my Savior, all the day long.

Whenever you find Him, He will never lose you.  Nothing can knock you out of His hand.  Sometimes it may not seem like it, though.  Sometimes it seems

like you keep walking through trials and you are all alone.

I put my hand on the window that separated us and thought how it was just like on television.  My hand "touching" her hand through the glass.  Me wearing my pink shirt and jeans, she wearing the county orange jumpsuit that matches the other inmates. And just in case they forgot, they had it written in big letters across their backs. 

 INMATE.

She knew Jesus.  Now she was having to face the consequences of her actions

 before she met Him.  Part of her wonders why He didn't intervene and

keep her from having to do this time away from her daughter.  I wonder too.  But we both knew the plan was bigger than we could understand.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is hers.

After we hang up the black phone, with tears running down her cheeks, she mouths "I love you", as the guard escorts her back to her little spot in the world for the

next few months.  

We went to the hearing to find out how many times we would have to mark X on the calendar squares before we could actually put arms around her.  

This is where we met her dad.  

A relationship was begun that would have never happened if

we hadn't visited her several times and then gone to the hearing.

He loved that we loved his daughter.

When she got out, she brought him to church.  Not long after that he knew he had a hole that needed to be filled.  Nothing he had ever done could fill that hole like Jesus.

He wept as he went through the water.  We weren't sure we could get that 6'5" frame all folded up in that trough.  But we did.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is his.

I run into a precious one at the grocery store.  The question "how are you?" makes her cry.  It's not about the day to day stuff.  All she can think about is there is no baby. 

 Every month she prays yes but every month her body bleeds no.

The tears fall into the basket.  

My heart hurts so bad for her because I am connected to that same kind of pain.  

The kind of pain there are no words for.  Praying peace over her.

And strength.

And that His praises will continually be in her mouth.

Oh Jesus, only You can heal.  Can strengthen.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is hers.

I hear of a single mom of several.  She made choices to make her life better and now walks a road of trying to do it mostly by herself.  

I know some days it may seem impossible.  

Some days lonely.  

I know the dread of starting another day without the help of another adult,

 just in case I might get something wrong, or need encouragement.

She says she has no regrets.  I love that.  

I pray for her peace, and her strength as she walks this journey of her choice.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is hers.

Sometimes the prayer needs of those I love seem overwhelming.  

I continue to lift them up to Jesus for His comfort and peace.  

I know that it is enough, but I want them to know it. 

 To feel it.  To embrace it.

If we can, if I can continue to embrace it and believe it, then 

His praise will continually be on my lips.

He continues to write my story, your story.  My song, your song.

I, we can praise Him all the day long.

 He is trustworthy like that.

Blessed Assurance, Jesus is Mine.