I saw her crying before,
It was beautiful. She was pleading for her child.
Intercessing for her to come back into the Master's arms.
There, there she goes again.
Pouring her heart out onto the Master's ear.
He loves the purity of her brokeness,
The fine quality of her pain.
Under the glades of the Master's gardens she knelt and pleaded once more.
She held in her arms one of her daughters who swam in the Sea of Flesh only to surface out and bear another.
She reached out her hand "Come, child. No use chasing after the flesh made of muscle and blood. Come child, come join your mother."
Her child reached the surface, drenched in regret. The days were filled with hope or the lack thereof.
She was lured by the pleasures of the seas, hiding under the guise of love.
But amidst all that, all Mother had for her was a blanket of warm compassion. Dismissing hot cups of condemnation everyone else had to offer. And she embraced her.
Back in the Master's garden she gave all her troubles at the foot of the Master's tree and stood up relieved of burden.
She faces another day, welcoming doubters and the troubled with arms wide open. Then again she lays it down on the foot of the Master's tree, for lives kept from ruin, for hearts not to harden.
I saw her crying before, and there she comes again. Together we sat and plead before our Master's feet. Running in wounded, rising up healed.
I saw her crying before, it was beautiful. I saw how she plead for herself, purging and redemption.
The world tried to take her out, but she only came back stronger every single time.
If you saw her crying then, it'll break you. She was torn and it was dreadful.
But from nothing she went up from glory to glory.
I saw her crying again, it was beautiful.
Inspired by mothers everywhere.