The Thorn

"I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me.”
He said, “My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee.”
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face." by Martha Snell Nicholson A friend shared this poem with me a while ago and I have read it over and over since. That last line just makes my heart a pile of mush. The words couldn't be more true. The more I let go of the idea of 'good' and 'bad' according to human standards...the more I dive into a holy separation between body and soul and see that yes indeed, that very thorn that has given me so much anguish has also opened the floodgates of grace, mercy and so much more. As hard as it has been, I wouldn't ever trade my pieces of heaven with never having faced any thorn.