Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The Second Day
I push back chair and tears by lunch time and excuse myself from the new circles of friends that are forming.
Shards of fear fragment from that well-known pit in my stomach and I whisper them to the me in the bathroom mirror.
What if, after all of this, I go home and nothing changes?
I can't believe how bruised I am.
I am exhausted from the days of stripping-away that now measure beyond all of my youngest child's breaths.
And I do wonder: Lord, when does this get to end?
Even the little bit of artist in me can not reconcile the juxtapostion of normal vs.continued urgency.
In this place the people are real and acknowledge that dreams and brokenness fly together,
but my hope has been muddied by foreclosure and foodstamps, job loss after job loss after job loss, by we-both-have-jobs-now-but-we-still-can't-make-the-rent.
My course is unsustainable, and even though I do not confess it, I have been holding my breath waiting for the day that it all tips again and my family shatters some more from the impact.
I have no doubt that God has His reasons for bringing me to this space of women and words and connections, and I plead with Him to open my eyes so that I can recognize what He is doing.
I draw from memory, the words of encouragement given friend-to-friend just before I was about to leave for Allume.
Right up until the end, I doubted that current, and I think of how these words were meant to preserve, designed to be clung to:
'Thinking of you! God is going ahead of you, and intended for you to be there. Let nothing distract you. Go. And be brilliant.'
Is it possible to wear the marks of life's crushing without being distracted, focused on fear?
And then I realize it.
How can the light come out of our being, but through the cracks?
I am here (you are here) because we are a community designed to tell our broken stories.
In this unveiling, my focus shifts, because this is the center of everything.