Maybe it's that time of year or time of day or time of the month that is prompting this post. Or maybe it's because my mind doesn't sleep and I have too many jumbled thoughts roaming around up there like an old woman in a nursing home, not really sure how to get out or where to go. For the last six years fall and winter have been dark and hopeless times as I have watched my best friend and love of my life enter into the blackness of crippling pain and undiagnosed suffering which has robbed us of a life we could almost touch and smell only to be held out of reach and squashed. A terrifying and lonely place living inside a glass house of sorts as onlookers wondered from the outside, questioning our very integrity; casting judicious glances, unhelpful advice and ultimately stones which shattered all that we thought we were.
It's crazy, really, how the events of the past year have tried and called into question everything I held to be true about humanity, friendship and love. As the axis shifted and whirled our universe on a different path, my soul has bled and my endless supply of tears, it would seem, could've wash away all the pain and yet it remains. These scars I carry are fresh and new, tender like a sunburn or fresh tattoo-- I hope the image left behind is that one closer to the image of Christ and less of me.
This week a friend asked if I had a blog, even a secret one and I wished, in that moment, that I had. But the gnawing at my heart became a more intense desire to actually tell my story as it unfolds. Let it out and see where it goes.
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