Familiar

She is dirty. Tired. Her heart has been ripped from the rejection and shame. She can hardly carry all her baggage. The rest she drags behind her. Constantly reminded of her failures and what could have been's. He could have stayed. We could have been perfect. Then you would be a better person. A better Christian. She runs face to face into Him. Where did He come from? Did He just now show up? Or perhaps He moved from walking beside her to finally stepping in front of her. Confronting her. Healing her. He gently tugs at her heart to hand Him the baggage. He'll destroy them. After all He knows she must be getting tired from dragging it all. He holds a wash cloth in His hands. He offers to wipe her face clear of all the dirt. He'll erase the tear stains. And He holds redemption in the other, promising to heal her heart. To make it new. Give it hope. She almost gives it all to Him. But then she hesitates. For she has been her for so long. She doesn't know how to be anyone else than the broken dirty girl. And although she is both completely torn apart and filthy, she knows how to be her.  How is she suppose to know how to be this other person when she has been her for so long. She may not know how to walk without the weight of the baggage. And she may not be able to see the same through clear eyes. And her heart may feel differently than the old familiar despair. You see. Her is she. And she is Familiar.