It rained this morning - how appropos. It feels like the what is on the outside matches what is on my inside.
I may have pushed myself a little harder than I should have. I’m worn a little thin and about yea-far from a total meltdown.
I’m not sleeping well - about 2 hours a night. I want to do well at the craft sale tomorrow. I need to finish three scarves by tomorrow evening. My finances are completely out of control. Oh, God - it just goes on and on and on. Truthfully, I don’t think I’ve ever been this distressed before and I don’t quite know the way out. Frankly I just want to crawl under the covers and not come out until spring.
My grandmother is in the hospital again. Sure she’s been there before and I’ve never been this distressed about it, but then she’s never stopped breathing before either. Yesterday, after breakfast, she said she felt a little dizzy. When she got to the hospital she had a seizure and then stopped breathing so they had to intubate her. She’s doing really well now, all things considered - her vital signs are strong and she’s responding to voices.
I know she won’t be here forever, and it really is impossible to prepare oneself for this, but how do you manage to get out of bed in the morning? How do you go on? I feel like my soul is being spooned out through my gut with each and every breath.
And I know that I will go on. Just like everyone else does. I know that there is hope and a light at the end of the tunnel. In my head at least I know that. But it’s my heart that’s refusing to cooperate.
I suppose I should let sorrow run its course and see where it takes me. Obviously it is here and it wants me to acknowledge it. I’m okay with that. The bad times need to be felt deeply so the good times can be felt just as I deeply, I believe. The scary part is not knowing how deep the chasm of my brokeness is and how deep I far will I be cast into it?
And yet, work still needs doing, obligations still need to be met, laundry still needs washing and I only have ten nails for the biting and so much hair for the pulling.
And where is God? I’m not sure. I do know that I am running away from Him because I guess that’s safer. Where does faith go when it rains? Maybe like a plant it has a dormant stage - where it’s not growing, but merely sustaining itself, taking in nutrients and recuperating from a season of growth before it can burst forth in full glory once again.
Nonetheless, I am as prepared as I’m going to be. There will be something good at the end of this travail. Perhaps it will just be that I am all the stronger for having made it through. Or perhaps my life will have a whole new beginning.
Into the abyss….