I imagine it was a cold and dark morning. God always finds a way to make the world reflect the things we want to keep inside. I imagine clouds were painted the first time He tried to say ‘sorry’ and I imagine  the rain was how He’d first paint a picture of despair…it comes down harder when you’re a mile high. I imagine your soaking wet canvas jacket felt like feathers in comparison to the weight you shouldered. 

I imagine it was like this for weeks, maybe months, or maybe it’s still like this. I imagine I can’t truly imagine what it feels to have your heart strung up like a piñata, every one taking a swing. 

I imagine all you wanted was to be held, to feel safe, but there was no safety with your eyes closed. 

I imagine that’s when doubt moved in and found rest in faith’s bed, and the sky kept apologizing though you didn’t care to hear what it had to say…I imagine you couldn’t have known it yet, but you would be made new again. 

But that’s where imagination stops and truth begins. Because God kept painting, and He colored you the brightest, unblemished, and led you to a city clasped by a golden gate.