i said i felt stirrings.
a new season.
beginnings of a journey.
today i went to church.
2x.
(superchristian).
the 2nd one was about pain.
psalm 88.
about suicide and mental health and babies dying.
about addictions. and brokenness. and helplessness.
a father's cry for his daughter.
in the dimmed lights.
i cried (as we all did).
and i felt the pain.
of my friend sitting nearby and his buried burden.
of my friend buried. beaten.
of those who beat him, broken.
and i felt a taste of the pain that so many i work with carry.
the pain they've carried for their lives.
of loss. of their own potential loss of life.
of the recent and inevitable yet sudden loss of a friend.
i felt like i could finally feel some of that pain.
and realized how deep it could feel.
i have lived a very sheltered life.
i have not felt a lot of deep pain on a personal level.
my experience of suffering is limited.
and most often 2nd or 3rd hand.
so when i have been faced with the suffering of others,
i have not ever truly understood.
even though i had glimpses.
and could relate to some of the universal experiences.
but on a visceral level, it was not real to me.
and even now, i have not felt the true depths of pain. of loss.
a beginning.
and today.
sitting in the back chair. my knees curled to my chest.
i felt that i was about to enter a season of pain.
and in that one moment, i felt peace.
i felt that if i could make it through, there would be hope.
and that if i were to ever truly hold hope for others,
i would have to learn it through deep suffering.
not that suffering would happen to teach me a lesson.
but that if i were to choose hope in the midst, somehow.
that i could be there on the other side to be present for others.
and maybe it was just a moment.
and i hope so.
because it scares the shit out of me.
in that moment, i said that i would welcome whatever comes.
and i asked to be held to make it through.
i hope i'm being overdramatic.
or that i'm on the end of this journey.
but i have a feeling its just beginning.
and life is full of suffering so its inevitable that i'm going to have to endure it.
but what if its my family?
what if its too hard... and what if i can't make it through?
i have no idea.
and the moment has passed.
but by writing this down,
i have a small reminder.
of what may be to come.
God rest upon us.
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2 comments:
Ruthi this is so hard and beautiful, I'm so glad you're writing again!
You are being held. By Him and by me and many others.
Keep walking mate.
I love you!
augh, google is being amazing at deleting comments tonight...well, alas, a dishearted/less inspiring redo:
i am "reconnecting" via blogs...and i am just catching up on yours here...and loving your heart's acknowledgement of the terrifying necessity of pain/struggle...i know this entry is a bit old, but whether this mysterious something has crossed your path or lies yet ahead, i wanted to say that it really struck me...i often sense a great divide between myself and others on account of having passed through a moonless no man's land at a young age...but an old friend recently sent a message she didn't quite understand and used the word "beacon" in reference to a bewildered me...this and what you've said here have made me want to make sure you know that if you have seen the banks of that black swift river that cuts cold through the midnight of our mortality, please look 'round you -- squint in the starlight and see the ancient ships wrecked on the other side, the beaten broken boats that press silently alongside you in the current. we are here.
*shaina
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