Walls

If you've ever watched a woman in pain, there's usually a similar scene always painted. When an embrace of comfort is offered, usually by a man, we fight it. We punch and shove and push and resist. We've been hurt before. We're stronger. We're over comers. We're here for, not ourselves, but others. This is done relentlessly.
Almost relentlessly.
Because there's always a breaking point. A point where the water is putting too much pressure on our walls. And a crack crawls through the stone. Our head falls on his shoulder. We try to hold up the walls, but the break grows, and the water flows in. Finally, we release on the only thing that resembles strength or a sturdy foundation. The water reaches our eyes. We fall, and suddenly... We're soft. We're tender hearted. We're usable, vulnerable, teachable.
This is where we're beautiful. This is where we were created for. This is where Jesus sweeps in and caresses our hearts. This is what no other man can offer. This is healing. This is surrender. This is hope. This is humility. This is love.