It has been a week swollen with activity. Two days, back to back, began at 6 AM and closed at AM. I am weary. But more than that (who isn't weary these days?) my heart is heavy with hurt. I wish I could pour it out here. The closest I can come to describing this is to offer an analogy.
On crime-related television, whether it's a version of CSI, Law and Order or some other representative drama, you learn all sorts of things about which you would have no other occasion to know unless your own life was somehow linked to that profession. A recent episode of one of these programs involved a woman who was injured by a bullet that went through one person and penetrated her own body.
My pain is something like that. A "weapon" penetrated another person's being and then because of my proximity to that person it entered my own soul. Colateral damage, I guess you could say. Only the weapon didn't just strike me, it struck a deep and still healing wound. Rotten enough. But the healing of this wound was woven with hope of a certain kind, and now that wound has been ruptured again. It only there was sufficient help to staunch the bleeding.
Julian of Norwich wisely stated that "all will be well, ..." and in due time I believe the veracity of her wisdom will be borne out. Tonight I hurt, I weep--wail, actually--and I pray. Tomorrow I will attempt to preach about surrender and humility, trusting that I will emerge from the tenderness that is now with some portion of strength to help me appear, if not remain, intact.
It is time now for sleep, assuming that will come. Blessed dreams to one and all. Rest in love.