I have a draft saved on here, another in my head, and another burning as a lump in my throat. And this is none of those.
Summer and fall are fighting brutally; their punches and kicks wisp around me and so it is a necessary pony tail day. Horrible news made us rethink going to the pumpkin patch for our day off, but we went anyway because I am about what works, and crying on my bed all day doesn't work, however tempting it is.
And those pervasive questions threaten to mist over my eyes and heat my cheeks and so I haven't formed them yet, haven't asked because the answers will swarm if I ask and I don't want swarming, stiff answers right now.
Those questions are important, they are real and they are justifiable. Terrible things do happen, they do swarm and overcome. Death, sickness, destroyed relationships, no answers, spirals of chaos and resentment and anger and pain. There is an undeniable ache to this life: that is something both the privileged and the oppressed will agree upon. An ache, an incompletion, a grinding in our hearts. I know this, and yet death is still unbearable.
And so my joy is that this life is merely a precursor to the glory attained through our Savior, where impossible earthly relationships are restored, broken hearts are mended, and ravaged bodies are healed. This strain on my heart reminds me that this is almost disturbingly short, but glory is unending and waiting for me and others.
Oh Jesus, keep me hoping in the eternal.
Summer and fall are fighting brutally; their punches and kicks wisp around me and so it is a necessary pony tail day. Horrible news made us rethink going to the pumpkin patch for our day off, but we went anyway because I am about what works, and crying on my bed all day doesn't work, however tempting it is.
And those pervasive questions threaten to mist over my eyes and heat my cheeks and so I haven't formed them yet, haven't asked because the answers will swarm if I ask and I don't want swarming, stiff answers right now.
Those questions are important, they are real and they are justifiable. Terrible things do happen, they do swarm and overcome. Death, sickness, destroyed relationships, no answers, spirals of chaos and resentment and anger and pain. There is an undeniable ache to this life: that is something both the privileged and the oppressed will agree upon. An ache, an incompletion, a grinding in our hearts. I know this, and yet death is still unbearable.
And so my joy is that this life is merely a precursor to the glory attained through our Savior, where impossible earthly relationships are restored, broken hearts are mended, and ravaged bodies are healed. This strain on my heart reminds me that this is almost disturbingly short, but glory is unending and waiting for me and others.
Oh Jesus, keep me hoping in the eternal.
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