I Am.

My hands are empty.

I place them out in front of me, cupped.

Empty.

Showing God, showing others, I have nothing more to give.

Seems everyday, countless moments,

I place them in front of me, palms up,

Proving this woe.

God, I do not have it to give.

Have not the resources, the talent, the strength.

Empty.

As more and more come,

As more demands mount,

More questions asked,

More time consumed,

I outstretch them,

Showing, pleading, imploring,

See them,

Look closely,

They are wholly empty.

Then the whisper,

The very breath of God.

It is in the humble outstretch of your empty hands,

That I Am capable.

When you expose your broken,

I Am enough.

Unashamedly revealing your bareness,

I Am the resource.

Exposing that which you know not,

I Am the talent.

And it is in your weakness,

I Am the strength.

I Am that I am.

Open them and cup them tightly dear one.

Allow me to pour all that am into who you are.

I will, because I am.

One thought on “I Am.

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