He's a collector, you know, of the worst kind. He collects disappointment, pain, patterns. He collects failure, mistakes, mindsets. Over and over he replays them, carefully turning up the volume until all the misery is shouting in my ears. He uses vulnerable spots to press on me, hoping I'll shrink away from the pain, further away from the ones that love me the most, weaving misery across my eyes until I can't see their love anymore. He used an old trick, and tricked me again. You see, any pain or failure or disappointment that I've given to the Lord, the enemy can't touch anymore. He can't dangle those and lure me away, because they are no longer mine. He can't steal from the Lord of heaven and earth. He steals from me, and from you. He steals the things I think are still mine. Seven years ago today, I gave birth to a daughter we didn't get to keep. The pain of searing loss was so great, I had to completely, thoroughly give her to the Lord. My hear