Some things hit me like a punch in the gut and the terrible seems far bigger and louder than the beautiful. Other times, I lean in, look closely at something small and quiet and easily missed and there I find wonder that washes me in peace.
I don’t subscribe to the theory that if I do A, B, and C , it (whatever the troubling “it” is at that particular moment) will get better. I don’t believe I’m meant to live on the mountaintop all the time. Well-meaning directives to pray more or pray differently insult me.
Sometimes I just have to spend time in the muck.
The Divine doesn’t show up like a magic genie and pluck me from the midst of it or tell me to “buck up” and move on, but rather sits with me and invites me to linger and pay attention to the thing that’s most troubling. And consider the reason it’s most troubling.
I wrestle—oh how I wrestle—but when I finally come to stillness, I hear a whisper.
I see you.
And with my face held in holy hands, as my eyes leak and my head aches, I let go. Being seen was the thing I needed more than anything else all along.
The days get away from me. I don’t accomplish the things I set out to do or I find myself stuck in a rut of doing that leads back to the same place I started.
So I make a list.
Paint a picture of a leaf.
Make a quinoa salad.
Those are enough for today.