I lost someone.
To call her “dear to me” just isn’t enough. It doesn’t fit. She was woven into the fibers of my being. To be near to her felt inexplicably like home.
And then she was gone…also inexplicably. It was too sudden, too abrupt. It feels unfair. It feels indecent. It feels like the worst kind of theft.
It’s been just a little over two weeks since it happened; since I began learning a lot about myself and the people around me. I have never felt so loved and simultaneously never so let down. Plainly, I have never felt so much, period.
I have also learned that, to my pride’s great disappointment, I’m no Job. I’ve not been angry at God, but I’ve been angry. I’ve not felt peace. I’ve not felt a longing for it, even. I’m restless. I don’t doubt God’s goodness, I know He has His reasons and His time for all things. I just don’t know what to do with the subsequent pain.
The past week, though, I’ve been able to put my hands up. In surrender and praise. Before now I was too tender and raw to move. And even now, my hands are up, and that’s the most I can manage. All I can do is let Him use this in me. It’s the only sense that could possibly come of something that feels wrong and senseless.
We are currently in a weird dance, my Abba and I. The moves and rhythm feel as though they change on me with no warning. My energy is low, my enthusiasm lower. But I’m letting Him lead, and praying it eventually becomes something beautiful.
He is pouring out His love at a time that I have nothing to give; he is holding me up through the steps. I feel His grace when I need to rest, which is often. His patience for my wild, wounded heart right now is abundant, and for that I can truly give thanks.