Able

1.13.13

There's a host of hurts we come across
None of which alike
From the air inside the birthing room
To the darkness where we die
Though I feel I'm just as strong as any man I know
I'm not able on my own

Carry round the secrets
Only heaven knows
Crawl into our darkened rooms where only victims go
Though I feel I'm strong enough to carry all this load
I'm not able on my own

(Needtobreathe - Able)

And so we find ourselves here, a year later.  The words find my ears and I am startled -- unexpected and out of place and painfully familiar.  Voice carries note and meaning and memory all the way to my ears.  And if I hadn't before, I now feel as though I've lived an entire year in twenty four hours.  

I have buried emotions deep enough, I may recall them but I can avoid feeling the pain again.  Of sitting on the floor and asking something impossible of God.  Of sitting in the doctor's office, twice, not even having words for my questions.  Of calling him, meeting him at his house, sitting on the bed and all the start of all the confusion.  Of the pain and judgement and nausea and fear that followed.  

Fear, it seems, often leads us into the next chapter of our stories.  Whether or not we let fear control our lives determines the nature and quality of that next chapter.  And I, despite the temptation, did not succumb.  

But I am haunted -- haunted by waters full of memories and intensity and the way the rain smelled that morning. Haunted by the remembering, of sitting on an unfamiliar street and staring at traffic in my parked car.  When the a strain of music caught my ear and He told me what I needed to hear.  Not on my own.

How often do we stand neck deep in life.  Armpits aching with the nervousness of it all.  We can't see far enough ahead.  We cannot fathom how our prayers might be answered.  We think we know best -- an alternative is out of the question.  We beg and cry and take deep breaths and somehow, we collect days.  Somehow we make it to sundown every time.  And our beds swallow us and we resolve to do it again.

Somehow, we think.  Somehow we will do this.  Even if some of those days our eyes are squinted shut and some days we finish rather worse for wear.  The days add up.  The hours pass.  

Then one day you wake up and it is one year later.  Somehow, though we couldn't tell you how, we've made it here.  And though the world thinks this is an unremarkable day, it's implications wake you up in the morning.  You know.  You know what this day means.

In not so many words, today means you survived.  You arrived today, as a conquerer.