This Fruit of God

I hear the shattering of another heart. Even witness the pieces spill.

Agonized cries, muted, resound in my heart.

I want to catch the shards falling. Snatch them before they pierce. I wish to shelter, shield.

How can I?

There is no protection I can offer. Only witness this shattering.

Love bears all things. (1 Corinthians 13:7)

Love. This fruit of God. The very Vine, Himself.

Bears. Carries. Endures. Takes in arms, outstretched. Willingly.

All things. Without exception. Inclusive.

The Vine chose the shattering, the dying, for all. He witnessed the shattering of this one, also. And gladly allows the shards to pierce Him deep.

 I can not protect, but I may love. I may bear the fruit of what was born in me. I may stretch out the arms, willingly. I may weep with this one. Walk alongside through the mire.

And I can pray, boldly carrying this one to the throne of grace. To the feet of Love. Over and over again.

Only this fruit of God, Love Himself, can mend.

Our tears mingle. There is comfort here.