What an odd month this has been, and it's not a singular thing that's made it feel like that. It's more like the small snowball at the top of the hill racing to the bottom. Does that make sense?
Honestly, this entire year has been odd, and I'll leave it at that.
I try to be upbeat and happy in these newsletters, but sometimes, I feel compelled to speak frankly, and this is one of those days. I'm not looking for sympathy or anything, just sharing so that if someone is in a similar situation, they know they're not alone.
I've struggled since last year. Struggled with my faith, my heart, desires, worth. It's almost like I've been in this state of pre-crying. Like you feel it coming, but you're holding it in, waiting to find a safe space and ugly cry. I'm picking up this piece and that piece and that piece over there, stuffing them into this box because other people's problems are bigger than mine.
Yes, I have friends I know I could pull up a chair next to and pour my heart out. And yet, I keep patching that worn-out piece in my heart that's struggling to hold in all the things I continue to stuff in my box.
I hurt. Deep down and profoundly.
And I wish I knew why.
Perhaps the path to understanding begins with simply knowing there is a problem, with each step being a question that will lead to an answer somewhere down the line.
Yes, I know Jesus loves me. But sometimes, like now, I wonder why.
I don't know the answers. Honestly, my typical response would be to allow Christ to be my comfort, but I feel like a porcupine at the moment. Maybe voicing that right there is the best first step and the biggest why of all. Perhaps if I can figure that out, the rest of the answers will fall into place.
There is hope, though. I'm absolutely certain of that. We just need to white-knuckle it until the answers present themselves. I say we because someone will relate...and just in case their grip is slipping, I wanted to be sure they know that our grip isn't as precarious as we think. There's a Savior out there with His hands wrapped around your wrists, waiting for us to realize it.