She broke the alabaster flask. & with it, her identity shattered to pieces.
I can only imagine how hard she cried.
Enough tears to wash His feet.
Her long hair, now caked with mud & pretty face, now red with tears—
she gave up her desire to be the awe of man.
She was in awe of the Lord; so, she washed His feet.
& He washed her heart.
I can’t count the times I’ve held a “street”-girl, opened my eyes from a prayer & looked down to see the sidewalk, dotted with tears. Continue reading “ALABASTER FLASK”