{11,315 Days…}

{Life In Poetry}

I’m exhausted.

There’s not a drop of strength left in my weary, sleep-deprived body.

Day in and day out, I work. I move. I show up.

It was day and it was evening- on the 11,315th day of my life.

Minutes have turned into hours,

Hours have ticked away, turning into days.

Days have moved along bringing forth new years,

and years have worn my soul.

11,315 days. That’s how long I’ve toiled in this sin-full earth.

11,315 days. That’s how long I’ve felt and experienced-

…dreams, hope, desire, amazement, brokenness, pain, heartache, rejection, abandonment, crushed dreams, disappointment, fear, death, betrayal, jealousy, envy, strife, worry, self-doubt and condemnation…


11,315 days. I’m exhausted.

-my journey has been long and difficult.

I’ve pressed through heavy storms whose winds left me with territory so damaged by corrosion, I never imagined restoration possible.

11,315 days. I’ve walked through the blazing fire, dross and impurities burning into the grey ashes under the extreme heat . I’ve been tested. I’ve been tried.

I’ve been in the deep, dark, cold, and lonely pit of depression.

That place where every ounce of life within you seems to evaporate-

-like rain on concrete on a hot  summer day- evaporating slowly with the sun’s heat.

11,315 days. I’ve experienced the kind of heartache that pierces the soul taking your breath away, leaving you gasping for air.

11,315 days. I’ve experienced rejection… that I-don’t-want-you-you’re-simply-not-good-enough-and-you’ll-never-amount-to-anything kind of rejection,

-the kind that breaks you and tears you down layer by layer until all that’s left is nothing but an outer shell.



11,315 days. I’ve experienced death. That ugly-selfish-evil- kind of death that leaves your soul forever changed.

I’m exhausted. It’s been a long journey.

And yet-

in the depths of my soul there is a thunder, a roar of words spoken long ago from Holy flesh hanging on two pieces of wood.

The symbol of the cross standing on the top of the hill-

nails holding up sin and the Devine- all entangled together.

Some think He was held up by the nails.

Three nails. Three nails. Three nails.

But I say, He hung by Love.

And there, my exhausted souls meets his exhausted body.

There, my sins, my pain, my sorrow, my grief-

it all is held up before me by-

Three nails. Three nails. Three nails.

Held up by Love.

And the chastisement of my peace was upon Him.

Three nails. Three nails. Three nails.

Held up by Love.

And He looks at me and says, “It is finished!”

11,315 days of my life are enclosed with Him in that tomb.

11,315 days of my life sit there and wait, three days.

And just as He promised, on the third day, death had to let go of its grip.

He lives.

And because of those three nails. Three nails. Three nails.

Held up by Love-

Tomorrow I will wake up again. But my song has changed.

I will no longer count my days of sorrow- for I have traded in my 11,315 days for an eternity with Him.


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Posted on September 25, 2012, in DEVOTIONALS, LIFE, LIFE LESSONS, SPIRITUAL GROWTH and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Jessica Gonzalez

    Absolutely beautiful.. It brought me to tears. I too have felt so many of these emotions. Thankful for His grace and mercy. Thank you for sharing

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