When life gets confusing or hard, sometimes words go away completely and sometimes they come out of me like bloody shards of glass, slicing their way through my fingertips on the keyboard or in my notes app. They’re usually raw and about as real and unedited as I can get with myself and the Lord. In these times of fog and disorientation, I’ve often looked for the words of others who might have felt the same way. It seems most people wait to share until those seasons are behind them, tied up with a bow and with some additional answers or relief. Or I find I have to dig through books to find their paragraphs of pain. This is fine, of course, and there’s nothing wrong with this approach. I’ve written this way as well. But I’ve decided to share a bit from the raw edges of where I’ve been in hopes that maybe one person will feel less alone. May my sharp edges be a reminder of grace, of God’s patience, of hope that endures, and that while the night is long, frustrating, heartbreaking or just disappointing, it does not last forever. These will be posted without dates, in fragments, mostly without context, mostly without resolution.
I’m so disappointed with how long it’s taking me to figure out my life. Budgeting, cleaning schedules, serving our neighbors, hospitality, meal planning. There are seasons of long, deliberate strides when feel like I’ve finally arrived at adulthood. And then other seasons where I am limping and cannot remember the last time my house had a good deep scrub.
Today, I’m staring up at the siding on my barn where just below our floodlights, a grackle nest appears every year. This year is no different. Each year, they fly into this same cavern hidden behind the warped siding, and I could easily sit and watch them fly in and out daily if I had the time. I noticed for the first time this year, the head of a grown grackle, sticking out sideways from a portion of the siding. It was unnatural, and the more I looked at it, the more I realized it wasn’t moving.
“Is that….a dead bird?” my daughter asked. We both stared in slight horror and bewilderment as we realized this bird had likely attempted to fly out, only to get stuck in the narrow siding, and ultimately, find its end there. Just below the nest. The other birds continue to fly in and out and there, the unfortunate incident sits. No one to pull it out, no one to lay it to rest. Just the reality of the harshness of nature. Maybe I am the bird.
I remember once when I was going thru a hard time, I was nursing a baby chick, and it died while convulsing violently, and that was just too much for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sad. It’s remarkable how we can feel brave or enduring about big things, but those little things involving dumb animals, seeming so senseless, can just break our hearts completely.
I have found in my saddest of sad, it’s rare to find someone who will just sit and listen, who will bear the weight and will offer strength and support, even in silence. Just want you to know, I’m here and I’m listening. 🤍Brooke