It's been a long time.
And it might be a long time before I'm here again.
I want to offer some sort of explanation for where I've been and why I haven't been here. The truth is, every moment of the last 5 or 6 months has been so full and there's been so little time for synthesis and reflection that I don't have much commentary to offer on life, the universe, or anything.
The last months have felt like what I call and, " . . . and then" story. It's one of those times when, just as you feel like it might let up and you might get a breather, something else happens. And then something else happens. And then . . . and then . . . and then . . . and you have to catch your breath between laps because there's always something else.
Dave looked up at me the other day and said, "I feel like I've been tired since November," and, honestly, that's the truth. One.thing.after.another. Without time for air, let alone contemplation or reflection or much more than falling forward into the next step and hoping we land on a stepping stone and aren't swept away by the river.
When Dave said that, I told him that the only way I was going to make it to the end of the year was one day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time. Sometimes one breath.
There are bad days. There are good days. On the whole, I don't think 2010 is going to be a year that I care to repeat any time soon. But we will prevail, because we have a God who doesn't get tired. He's never tempted to put us down and not pick us up again because his arms are tired, and he doesn't try to soothe us just so he can go get some rest already. Instead, he watches through the nights, these long, long nights, so we can take what rest we can.
And then he brings the morning.
He is the morning.
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
6 comments:
thanks for taking the time to let us know that you're in the middle of this and then this and then this. sounds kind of familiar to me. praying you find yourself covered in morning light very soon.
yes, thank you for letting us know about the space that you're in so that we can care for you, put the proverbial blogging arm around you, and let you know that if you have to walk this kind of path, at least you don't have to walk it alone.
i'm so sorry for how tired you both are, for the hits that just. keep. coming. and. will. not. stop. i do so hope you find that space to rest and to breathe, to take it one breath, one minute, one hour at a time.
we are here with you and will sit and wait with you for the morning light.
Ditto to what Terri and Kirsten said.
I'm glad you shared this. It's helpful to know where your body and soul and heart are finding themselves these days.
I'm sorry for the bone-tiredness you and Dave are feeling. I can feel it in your words. Tired. I'm very familiar with what you describe in my own small corner of the world, and it makes me sad to know you're feeling it day upon day in your world, too.
Thank God for sustaining us. Yes, He is the morning.
Breathing is a good thing. Thought I'd remind you of that. Sometimes we forget to breathe, my yoga teacher tells us (as I'm secretly cursing her for making me hold that pose for this long while she nonchalantly walks around the room).
Also remember that you are loved.
Hi Sarah,
I so get this. "I feel like I have been tired since November." I wish I had some wonder words to say or magic wand to wave, but I am all out of words. But, I am here and I am listening. And I am sorry that life seems to be beating you up right now.
Love to you.
Thanks, all . . . I'm always surprised that people still read this, though I suppose it's the joy of feed readers ;) I can't tell you how good it is to hear your voices here again!
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