Walking

The same themes keep weaving themselves into my life. Maybe the circuitousness is a result from not fully grasping what I need to learn in order to unfurl this path that has led me through some of the darkness valleys.

Seasons. Heart. Community. Long-suffering. Stillness. Silence. Faith.

The road I have traveled this season has been interspersed with the sweetest reminders of God's care for me (even in the midst) juxtaposed with deafening silence.

I was talking to a dear friend recently who is also in a hard season. Empathy overwhelmed me as I heard her echo some of my own thoughts and feelings.

When I am so burdened, I cry out for mercy. Please. not one more thing. Then, there is that thing and the thing after.... I feel like I am drowning.

I begin to feel hopeless. Defeated. Numb.

There begins to be a disconnect between my heart knowledge and head knowledge. I know better. I know that I am not alone, but my emotions betray me.

I long for my grandparents. They were my comfort (here, anyway). In their absence I feel like I have no one to care for me. I feel alone. Abandoned.

He is silent. (my ears don't hear)

One thing she shared was this (I'm paraphrasing): As Christians, we are supposed to walk with each other through everything. We are called to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. I think most people can only handle the joy part. Well, I'm hurting.

Hmm... Yeah, weeping isn't fun. Being around weeping isn't fun either.

But, hands and feet. Remember?

In our lives we will have our share of joy and sorrow. The joy part is easy. Joy is bubbly, it's contagious. Effortless. Sorrow is dark, it's consuming. Heavy.

And here's the reminder: Right now it may be dark and twisty, but that does not alleviate my call to walk with the weeping, or make it okay for me to lessen my joyful response toward the rejoicing. Conversely, when I am giddy with joy, may I never overlook the tear-stained face.

Whether I am weeping, rejoicing or anything in between, I am called to walk. I walk and I pray and I live life out in community where we are supposed to share Christ's love with one another (and not with empty words, but with hands and feet). And for those who don't know him.

And as I walk I listen for his voice. And I ponder how to wrap flesh and blood around gospel and minister to those who hurt.

So, I ask in all seriousness: How are you? How can I be praying for you? How can I rejoice or weep with you??