God gave me a vision of her. I saw a woman who wore scarves and laughed a lot.

And then she connected with me over Facebook, this counselor whom I’d met years earlier at a conference, and she asked me to write a book with her for wounded daughters, and I ended up flying to her house and sitting in her living room and having her pray over me, for three hours.

All of the arrowheads from my past just flying out of me and me, being left excavated and clean and forgiven…

(I’m over HERE at The High Calling today; won’t you join me? But first, link up your imperfect prose below! Love you, e.)

Hi friends. These are the Imperfect Prose rules:
1. Link up a piece of poetry, prose or art that is somehow redemptive.
2. Copy/paste the #ImperfectProse button code in the right-hand column so others can follow you here.
3. Choose at least one other post to read and comment on, before leaving! 
Thank you! 

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