My heart hurts today and my head too. It’s been a hard year. The hardest physical and emotional summer of my life. We brought one child home to heal, sent three on mission trips, two internationally and one locally, three worked as summer camp counselors, two for a few weeks, one all summer, and one attended for several weeks, sent one adventure camping – who returned on probation from her church (is that even possible???), saw my mom through three successive surgeries and put off my own until October, spent time at Children’s Hospital learning one more diagnosis, one more medical language, one more system of the human body, started one more journey down the path of brand new treatments, and sent one back to college.
My brain is tired and a little numb. And the words have turned to ash, clotting in my throat. Dry and impossible to swallow.
It’s hot here in this desert place and lonely.
And not. For I long for the quiet and the still. Moments of rest when I can feel the sun on my face, the breeze on my skin, hear the swell of birdsong and cricket, and the shrill of late summer cicadas. Moments of peace when the voices stop crying out in the wilderness, and I can hear…
In the quiet. In the still. In the midst. As He breathes life into this dust. Slaking thirst. Feeding the hungry.
Because His love is better than life. And I get that now in this dusty place where words are few, and dry and it hurts to think.
Because all I really need is one. One word.
The WORD, made flesh, Who died that I might live.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” John 1:1