Like a light veil that covers everything: the dishes; the people; the clothes in the basket; the smiles on my children’s face.
A heavy balloon filled with water wobbling around in my stomach only temporarily dislodged by deep breaths.
Wanting to cry because I deeply feel.
Peace. Silence. Holy silence. Needing to wait.
No answers right now. Just waiting for time to propel us forward. Upwards. Seeing hope, but it is so, so far off right now.
Needing to make provisions for the journey. Needing to make plans perhaps, but wanting to curl up in an armchair with a chocolate biscuit and a warm cosy blanket instead. A heavy rain day.
The sadness does not belong to me but I feel it and I live it.
I feel helpless, but fall into Your arms.
And it reminds me of Solomon’s death. Of Your all enveloping arms that hold me despite what is going on. That remind me that You are faithful. That You feel. That You care, and that You are working, Beautiful Spirit of God. We just have to wait. And trust.
And hope.