It’s just stripping me clean to the bone these days, life.  I remember the last time it had me so absolutely laid bare.  Years ago, and some days the wound still breaks open and bleeds from those days, that dark season.  And I know, I know deep down in my gut that I am an infinitely better person for the wounding and the breaking open and the bleeding out that started back then.  But I don’t in any way long to go back there, to the beginning of the breaking, and so I am kicking against You, wild and abandoned.  I am in an empty apartment, slamming doors and kicking walls and whispering swear words through teeth clenched so tightly it makes my jaws ache.

You are teaching me to let go, to open tired hands and just let it waterfall out.  All the hurt, all the joy, all the hideous and all the exquisite.  And it sucks, this part of the letting go.  Because I don’t feel the freedom yet, I only feel the loss of the way I’ve always thought things should be.  I am living in the tension at the crossroads of Hope and What If This Is It?

And I know this isn’t it.  It never is.  You have never left me in the dark places.  You have never left me in the seasons where I feel all loss and no freedom.  You are with me now, I know.  In my empty apartment, while I slam and kick and swear.

And I just want to be able to explain it.  The way that I can feel everything falling apart and feel You always in the pieces.  I want to be able to tell it, to explain how I got here.  How I’ve come to know You in a different way than I used to, in a way that makes even the darkest days doable.  How faith stays lit inside me, against all odds, faith that one day I’ll look back at the darkest days and see the ways they changed me and grew me and opened my heart wide and tall and able to give and receive love in a new way that, someday, will feel like magic.

How can I explain that? I’m not sure I’ve wanted anything ever as badly as I want to be able to explain You and all the ways You press in closest in the moments I expect You to stop.  In the seasons when I think for sure I’m going to reach out and find nothing, just keep reaching.

And there You are.

stripped clean


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