Writing comes hard these days and for a myriad of reasons: I have limited access to the Internet; my mind is filled with screaming monkeys; unemployed and penniless; and feeling the dregs of a powerful bout of depression (something I have struggled with for 30 years). And God willing a final court date is approaching on January 11 that could change my life, at least externally, for years to come. I’ll write more on that later.
I have not “felt” much myself lately; but then again I am probably more myself than I could have ever hoped for.
I feel like the last 18 months has been my own personal school of hard knocks.
I am seeing more and more the depths of the shadows, layered like onions, each time I get through one layer, an infinitesimal amount of layers seem to exist. Peeling the onion again and again and again…and the tears come with this gifted onion, my many-layered soul.
And it may not seem like much, but just writing this little bit is hard. My fingers moving slowly across the keys, feeling them out, like two stray dogs sniffing each other’s truth.
My mind, my heart, even my soul feel like arid deserts. But today, I showed up. I’m here front and center, waiting.
Waiting on God’s grace – a grace that comes for people like me, wounded and in darkness.
Waiting on the most Faithful Love that has ever existed.
Waiting at the table where I am told a Feast awaits many.