lives broken,
talents wasting,
fires quenched,
dreams dashed.
They are tossed in with the scrap iron,
in desperate need of repair, with no notion of purpose.
Others lie on the anvil;
heart open,
hungry to change,
wounds healing,
visions clearing.
They welcome the painful pounding of the blacksmith’s hammer, longing to be rebuilt,
begging to be called.
Max Lucado
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