The One who is Grace, pour the balm of your gift into the fissures of my being. Ease the friction and rubbing of all that inhibits rest. Massage the inner knots of unbelief into tender, unresistant calm in your hands. Forgive my desire to live without love, the need to fulfil my own wants in my own way. The gift of balm slows me into a receptacle ready to receive. I come open, expecting your hearty smile of warmth and welcome.