"brother, forgive me
we both know I'm the one to blame
when I saw my demons
I knew them well and welcomed them
but I'll come around
father, have mercy
I know that I have gone astray
when I saw my reflection
it was a stranger beneath my face
but I'l come around
when I touch the water
they tell me I could be set free
so I'll come around
((the lament of eustace scrubb::oh hello's))
i had feels the first song in church this morning. f i r s t song people?! this is not the girl of 2012. i'm no longer a mentally unstable emotional wreck with no warning. but the back of my throat was tight and my heart was constricting. so caught off guard. i didn't know i was sad. oh geez. hidden hormones apparently, how awkward.
but it wasn't.
outta nowhere my heart was lifting up a lament to her Savior, one her mind had no idea was hiding in its depths. revealing, rather startling. but freeing. i have a reason, now, for heaviness that sometimes falls when i can't sleep. for the way certain scriptures about hope grab at my eyes. for why i have to remind myself i'm not in any sort of even hint of trial, so why do i keep wanting to focus on my "don't give up He's faithful" standbys? why am i so hungry for reassurance that "now" is _not_ forever? now is beautiful:
i love my family.
i'm making progress towards my goals.
i still have a kind-of job, even if all my income goes to gasoline.
i am well loved.
my best friends are still connected to me via technology and the loveliest of letters they send.
nobody relies on me for vital support
no relationship dictates my time or energy, i don't have the stresses and confusion of dating right now.
there are still things to grieve. there are good-byes that haven't fully repaired yet. the grieving of other hearts near and dear to me sometimes breathes out of them, when they don't know i'm paying attention. when they think their mask is on good and tight, but it slips a little. my heart aches for theirs too. i want to make it all better. i want to be part of the healing. i want to put my hands on the crimson pouring out of their hearts; stop it, to absorb all their pain. but i can't, my own hands are shaking too much.
and that's ok. it's ok that my heart loves fiercely. it's ok that death slices to the very center of me. it's possible to have hope--to be grateful and rejoice in Jesus' defeat of death for the future--and still bear the emotional blow with a physical pain. the kind that leaves my sternum feeling as bruised as it did after a car accident. there is no shame if i take a long time to mend the fabric of my soul when it is rent. after all, these threads had been being knit together twenty-five years.
God does not despise me for hurting. He understands temporary bereavement looks a lot bigger to those who have never tasted eternity. He is gracious. and healing. and if He works slow, why should i try to rush?