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When she cries.

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I’ve cried hard. I’ve cried for joy. I’ve cried because for too long I have been strong…all along.

I thought that crying is for weakling but that was only my thought. Maybe sometimes but maybe or most of the time or shall I say all this time; unconsciously, I was strong all along.

For years I’ve fought really my hardest, undergone such terrifying and trembling battles and spared tons and tons of tears run down to my face. I was scared and almost giving up, sword and shield thrown to the soil and bend my knees desperately. I was tired. I cried.

But God, my ever ready and faithful God rescued and even died for me. He’s the mightiest assurance and insurance that all this time I cried for I know and God knows I was strong. I was strong for my God is strong. His strength is my strength. He let me borrowed His strength which sustains me now.

God’s my refuge and a help close at hand. I may cry sooner or later but rest assured my God wipes and turns my cry into a greater joy.

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