Some things you can’t write even though you really wish you could.
Some things you can’t speak even though they suffocate you and threaten to cut off the oxygen supply to your heart.
Some things you have to find another way.
In these moments, I’m thankful for my Father.
To Him, I can write.
To Him, I can speak.
This moment feels entirely too familiar. Like losing Ezra on the eve of my best friend’s wedding.
It’s like wearing confusion-stained glasses throughout your day.
I hear my daughter’s laughter, I laugh at my son’s jokes, I’m overwhelmed by my baby’s smile. But neither of these experiences is completely true of my current reality. I’m wearing confusion-stained glasses, and they’re colouring every experience.
Confusion because to say anger, despair, hurt, brokenness would be to overstate my experience in this moment. To say that I have moved past confusion into anything else would be untrue.
It’s true however, that I also have an acute awareness of the fact that I do not understand. Not in a self-righteous, how-on-earth kind of way. But in a more genuine way that actually has me wishing and praying for understanding.
One thing I know for sure however, is that God is sustaining me through it. He’s holding me up by my bootstraps and saying: “It’s okay. Sit up. Stand straight. I have already made a way in the wilderness. Look to me.”
Some moments in our lives completely rock our perspectives, challenge our foundations and DARE us to stay sane. Perhaps it is in these moments that values are tested, character is formed, and generations are built.
Perhaps this is the moment that makes the difference.
Leave a Reply