I was born to a 18 and 17 year old. What people would consider a mess. Failure.
Poverty, abuse, drugs, alcohol, infidelity.
And here I came. Beloved Bringer of Victory. Because Mama knew that victory had to come out of the loss. Loss of dreams, loss of innocence, loss of choices. Victory had to come from the broken mess. Or so she believed.
The story is long and winding, I'm sure I will get to more of it in time. One bite at a time feeds. Chewed and processed is the best way. Healthy. It has to be out of my mouth before I can bite the next thing.
I am so thankful that my Father is opened my eyes to see this. The slow acknowledgement of all the pain heals and fill empty broken places.
He will use that fullness in time... For His glory. So that I can be poured out as an offering to Him.
He will get all the victory. We know the end.