journal 7/2

[I feel compelled to clarify that my journal is hardly ever this readable, and I have added some details. But overall I am leaving it in audience-less musing style.]

reading one thousand gifts and there is always a but, but, but… yes, giving thanks, yes grace and love, but – what of pain, completely nonsensical pain, what of my weak selfishness that will not be overcome? all i can think is we are supposed to be learning to see bigger, to lean into the pain and remember God providing. but, but, but depression and breakup are long over but i still feel wounded, tender, i don’t feel stronger or better. i can only see the past’s senseless darkness and the lingering pain as dark holes and i still fear them. it still seems we are remembered now but we  were forgotten then. how to thank? how to trust?

but she says this giving thanks is the essence of faith, and she is right. do i really think, at the end of all things, that God is going to say, “Oh, yeah, sorry i dropped the ball on that one”? do i really think i will mourn our mistakes and our hurt into eternity? no, i don’t. when i am quiet enough, i know Christ wept with me through that pain. i know that what still seems shattered will be mended. i know that when all this has passed our before-and-after shots will be an explanation unto themselves, and our mistakes large and small will be explained, redeemed, and we will laugh and rejoice in our own smallness pressed up against infinity so ebullient that one bursts into three and remains whole.

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