Some days are really good- I have a clear mind. A rational, level headed outlook. Then other days are blurred and confusing. I never thought I would be in such a long season of growth and pain- how naive of me. Some days I can physically feel the Lord working me and molding me. It hurts, but feeling him gives me this small gift of hope. Then there are days where my vision and mind feels blurred. The type of feeling when your eyes well up with tears, and warmth races down your body. Your throat constricts, trying to fight back tears that want to make their way out. I can’t see very far ahead of me. On those days, I can’t see what the Lord wants from me. That’s when I feel most alone. Empty. The trauma in January has opened up a vast file that I have left closed for so long. The weak, malleable soul I held onto deep within me was left wide open on the sidewalk without a shell or any sort of protection. Trampled on by the perils that happen as life progresses. Another sad event occurred last week. Another potential client’s life was lost.
It happened again. I’m the common thread. This is the irrational lies my mind tries to wrap itself with. It’s a twisted sense of comfort my heart tries to hold onto when things just do not make sense. I was so angry that day. I walked out of class and just stood in the hallway fighting back screams and tears. Loosing that fight completely. That night, my level headed fiance reminded me so gracefully that “as I become more involved with the lives of others, throughout my life and business I will become more involved with theirs joys and pains.” And the scary part about that…it’s inevitable. There is nothing I can do to stop tragedy. There is nothing I can do to provide a sense of safety in the midst of their pains. My business has always been my safe place, but as the Lord provides beautiful families and beautiful blessings, dark unpreventable instances can sometimes come with that. And that’s okay. I’m reminded daily that I am weak, but in my weakness the Lord works. Even when it feels like I can’t see an inch in front of me.