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“Before I understand what I am doing, silent words pour out in a torrent of prayer. Oh, how long my spirit has been bound by bitterness. But now, a ray of mercy has pierced the hidden dungeon of my soul. My griefs drain away, and hope fills the void. Words of confession become whispers of praise. As my feet move through the streets of Utsanek, I exchange guilt for forgiveness, resentment for thanksgiving, turmoil for peace.” — Andrea Renae
Before I understand what I am doing, silent words pour out in a torrent of prayer. Oh, how long my spirit has been bound by bitterness.
But now, a ray of mercy has pierced the hidden dungeon of my soul. My griefs drain away, and hope fills the void. Words of confession become whispers of praise. As my feet move through the streets of Utsanek,
I exchange guilt for forgiveness, resentment for thanksgiving, turmoil for peace.