My fault.

God grant me the willingness to welcome each new conviction, though the surprise of a newfound fault always drops me from a great height, leaving me windless and frightened like a child fallen off a swing. Though my face grows red with shame and though my disgrace stings like the Dickens, compresses my lungs, sticks needles in my throat, makes me want to hide, or explain, or fight, let me stand instead with my fists down by my side, not resisting the gift of infant truth, but letting the fullness of all my oversight wash over me in the daylight so that I can see it clearly. Help me stand in the fool I have been and open my eyes to what has been obvious to those I would have rather impressed. When my blood rushes hot to my head full of the gravity and horror of my own error, let me welcome it as a friend and not waste time denying it. For there is grace enough. There is always grace enough. My lack is upheld in your sufficiency. You have freed me to learn. You have freed me to drop old ways like outgrown clothes. You have freed me to laugh at the comedy of my sole soul self and revel in the fullness of You. For this is where we are going together, You and I. You lead me into a safety so wide and so deep that I, like a daughter tossed into the warm March air, might learn the delights of Love and loving unflinchingly.