Saturday, April 13, 2013

I needed to hear this today - maybe you did too?

This is from Annie Herring's CD, Glimpses

He's the one who loves you more than you will ever know
He's the one who dries the tears you cry
He has formed your very soul and knows your every need
He will guide you through your darkest night

For you
still carry inside you
His light that never dies
and you
are always before Him
the apple of His eye

He's the one who holds you close when no-one will come near
The one who sees what no-one else can see
He's the one who keeps your burden light enough to bear
For He will be your strength when you are weak

For you
still carry inside you
His light that never dies
and you
are always before Him
the apple of His eye

Nothing in this world
could ever keep His love from you
and He gave His life
to see this promise through

He's the one who loves you more than you will ever know
And He has counted every tear you've cried
He will mend your tear-stained heart and make it light as snow
And He'll become your wings so you can fly

For you
still carry inside you
His light that never dies
and you
are always before Him
the apple of His eye

Friday, April 05, 2013

Give and take

I've been writing this post in my head for a few days, but I wasn't sure I'd post it.  I like to post the positive, and also, there's a lot about my current journey that I haven't written in public about. There's a journal, and I've had face to face conversations with people, but cyberspace is another leap. I'm not ready to make that leap yet, and so it's easiest just to post the peripherals, like smiling at myself in the mirror on a daily basis.

And then I read this post:

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/culture/tech/stop-instagramming-your-perfect-life

and thought, okay, I'll post it.  I am resisting the urge to polish this post.  Let's post things that aren't beautifully worded!


This is still not a full-disclosure leap.  It's maybe even nothing new, the peek into what some of my days are like this will give, but it feels more raw than anything else I've posted since this began.

Wednesday was a very hard day.  Something happened Tuesday evening that triggered me badly, and I'd been feeling pretty much stunned ever since.  I couldn't feel my body, and I couldn't think. I couldn't name the trigger, and I couldn't figure out my reaction.

But there was this moment ...

I'm driving to pick A up from rugby, and as I turn off our street onto the main road, a woman in a long black coat half-raises her arm to flag me down.  She looks as stunned as I have felt all day, and I don't even think twice before pulling over, and rolling down the window.

"I - I just need a ride."  She is crying.  "A ride to an address near here."

"No problem," I tell her.  "I know how it is to feel completely lost."

The address she gives is quite close to where we are.  On the drive over, I make sure that where she is going is safe, because clearly she was not where she felt safe moments before.  She tells me a little about what happened, a moment of unexpected violence, and "Thank you for helping me."

I think of myself, an hour ago, huddled under the covers, begging God to send me some help, because I knew I needed to find my way back to 2013 but I couldn't do it on my own ...and the phone interrupted my prayer, one of my dearest friends calling to ask how my day is going.

"No problem."  I tell her.

She gives a few more details.  "He's my ex.  He said he'd cook dinner for us."  She's distraught, and I have no idea how much of this she will remember, but I have to say something.

"It's hard to remember that the people we care about aren't safe just because we want them to be."  She will never know that I am speaking out of my own immense pain.

She doesn't say anything, cries harder.  I hand her Kleenex, drop her off, make sure she gets into her house safely.

An hour later, after having picked A up at rugby, gotten her something to eat, and dropped her off at youth group, I am once again sobbing, on the phone with a friend, because my own darkness has descended again.  I try very hard to minimize the effect my current struggles are having on my family, and knew that I shouldn't be home right then.  It takes a lot of courage for me to be vulnerable enough to ask if I can just come sit on someone's couch until I'm together, but that's what I did.

Such an exhausting day, I tell God on my way over to the couch.  Why I am always taking?

And He reminds me of the woman in the long black coat, who looked as I lost as I felt, who found ten minutes of sanctuary in my van, and there is, once again, comfort.