It seems as though I've been wordless for a long time. The only updates I've made to my blog are those in which I have little to no obligation to really say anything. Memes... photo posts... Wordless Wednesdays, and the like. It reeks of wounded animal syndrome. You know, those times in your life where you hide in a secret place away from the world to nurse your wounds; only slinking out of hiding for food and drink.
I'm slowly cycling back to normalcy. I've wrestled with the loss, and have come to terms with what happened. Some things don't fix - and I'm okay with that. I find a lot of comfort in the knowledge that God is the antonym of me; that He cried, too; that He is big enough.
In the midst of all this turmoil, and decay - my senses have been... well, heightened. On Saturday I took a trip to visit my Mom. It was absolutely the most beautiful day it has been all summer. Even the harsh roar of diesel engines sounded like a sweet whisper of "O, the beauty of it all." Strands of hair, still damp from my morning shower, whipped around my face and clung to my lips and eyes. I met everyone at the Monroe Farmer's Market and plodded toward the vendors with a heart full of mileage and asphalt. There's just something about barreling down a highway with an outstretched arm - fingers lacing with those of the wind. It brings calm. It brings me closer to God.
Grief is a strange bedfellow. Recently, I've forgotten to shun his icy presence for missing his simple companionship. How can a thing which causes so much pain, become a reliable filter through which can be seen the reality of the circumstances?
In the words of David Crowder, it's a beautiful collision.
It's how things should be, colliding with how things really are.
It's the smallness of me, colliding with the bigness of God.
It's the joyful elation of true friendship, colliding with the sorrow of a loss too deep to mend.
It's that moment in which you're laughing through your tears, and the sound of your heart splintering is muffled by the embrace of a love that will not let you go.
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