You suffered for me.
Took on incredible injustice to free me from punishment rightly deserved.
Still, I don’t understand its magnitude,
and when I begin to struggle, I complain of unfairness.
Always, “It’s not fair!”
Never realizing how unfair it is to be called yours.
You send me food.
I demand more. Ease and comfort.
You offer space to create.
I clamor that it is not enough.
You hold me close.
I struggle and wrestle and try to escape.
Beauty surrounds me.
I fail to see it to offer up thanks in the truly hard places.
Because this is hard.
You never promised easy.
But you forged on ahead through the hard.
This thorn in my foot does not equal the crown on your head.