Three candles lit, how Trinitarian of me. You can take the girl out of church, but… well, you know. Music filling the house, familiar words floating through the air, found in hymnals, from the mouth of Jesus, floating through the house. Prayerful words I didn't know I'd ever be able to hear or sing again with any measure of authenticity. Today, they move me to tears.: “Look at the birds, they never seem worried; look at the flowers, they never toil or spin.” (Lilies and Sparrows by Jess Ray… and Jesus, I guess)
Last night, I felt as though I was spinning out of control. Was it the Friday night alone that felt like all those lonely Fridays where I'd learned to care for myself for the first time, leading into yet another lonely weekend? Was it the simple missing of my boyfriend, my partner who I grow to love more deeply each day? Was it a remembering of holding myself, crying myself to sleep, in the before, in the after, then again last night? Was it fear of what may be coming, what may be taken, what may never arrive at all?
What I know is that I am here, meeting the morning once again, watching light slowly fill the sky, in a spacious bed on a Saturday where there are no demands on my time. The empty house - mine! - giving me all the room I need to stretch out, to reach toward this day, reach toward God, reach toward all I already know to be true: that time moves, the sun rises, and no feeling is final.
What if the certainty we long for is overrated?
What if it is better than I could have imagined?
What if trust is transformative?
What if this all, somehow, works out?