A sharp, deep intake of breath, she sits up suddenly, hands seeking heart.

It’s beating.

It’s alive.

Mind racing, life blurs before unfocused eyes, still blinking off sleep that has long since fled.


Her life is in chaos.

Future undecided, unwritten, unforged; left to her to define, decide, decipher.


Complete and utter chaos.

“My peace I give to you.”



The two stop warring, somehow conceive a delicate truce, and live in community in her heart.

It’s beating.

It’s alive.

Peace is planted. The seed dies, the plant takes root. Peace in chaos. Fed with Living Water, roots dig deep into good soil, tilled and plowed to readiness. Deeper, deeper, deeper still, until uprooting peace means destroying the heart.

Peace has taken root.

Peace will begin to blossom until chaos is infected with it. There will be no place to hide, no place to run. Peace will overcome chaos.

It’s beating.

It’s alive.

In chaos.

In peace.

Trek forward. The future belongs to her. It will be decided by a mighty force, written by a graceful hand, and forged by heart-shattering affliction; hers to define, hers to decide, hers to decipher.

His to lead.


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