It’s been a very full month. I think I say that every month now. I keep waiting for life to get quieter but that doesn’t seem to be part of this season of life so I think I may as well quit waiting.
Anyway, there’s been much going on. However, given that all the goings on have primarily been in lives of other people that I’m close to as opposed to my own life, I don’t have much I can share about it all. As a result I feel like a cloud heavy with words that does not dare to rain. And it’s been a busy time too so that all the words and all the thoughts and all the feelings seem to be stacking and squeezing and shoving on top of one another to fit inside my head without a chance to have it all sorted out with a good long purge.
But who’d have the time to listen anyway? And I’m conscious of whinging. So best not start.
On the other hand, I feel like there so much unprocessed right now. Like when you are searching for the right word and it’s on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t remember. I feel like if I could just stop… and think… and talk it out, I just might be able to make some sense of all these jumbled feelings and ideas.
Last weekend, I was just weary with it all. Weary. That’s a good word. People I love are in deep waters in a number of different places and situations. And I can’t seem to help much, if at all. The world sometimes makes no sense. And at other times it’s beautiful. But very often it is downright terrifying and depressing. And lately it’s tinged my days with a fragile layer of sadness over top of everything else.
And I just long to talk it all out. So on Sunday night, I sat in the gloom that descends when the last flicker of the TV goes off and sighed. Loudly. And said, for perhaps the hundredth time in the last year, “I miss J.” That other city is all the richer for having her but I am all the poorer for missing her now that she’s moved away. My mind tells me that if only we could have a talk – a really long talk – I'd be able to get all the knots out and be sorted again. But it’s not really true. It would be lovely. But it wouldn’t work.
The truth is, despite my extended case of the poor-me-s, I do have friends who listen. Good friends who listen well. But that is never really enough. It doesn’t truly satisfy. There will always still be that inbuilt longing for one who can understand it all, make sense of it all and feel what I feel from the inside out. There is only one who really satisfies those deep unspoken, unutterable, longings for understanding. Only Jesus is enough.
And so I pray on. For my friends. For wisdom. For peace. Maybe for understanding.
For just going on when we are weary.
For forgiveness and for the grace to forgive.
And I hold tight to hope. Because hope does not disappoint.