I honestly have no creative beginning to this blog post to draw you in to reading these words below, so I'll just say that I'm drinking my third cup of lady grey tea in a red and white polka-dotted mug, eyes heavy; I had two pieces of homemade pumpkin bread earlier, I'm sitting on my couch now wrapped in a blanket, my feet are freezing, both pups sleeping, & me, listening to the song "idaho".
breathe deep, dear one.
In the process of the season changing - the entire world starting over again when autumn descends - how comforting it is to see again that God is still faithful through the tangibles. He never left. I like to think that a change of season is creation's way of again acknowledging God's holding of the world. God's holding of you, and me, and your family, and my fears, and your grief, and my hurt, and your blessings, and my weaknesses.
how overwhelming, how relieving - We don't have to have everything under control. We don't have to do it all.
breathe deep, dear one.
The relief coming from surrendering control isn't easy though, because surrendering in itself is hard. And life's chaos still goes on - slipping into old patterns, yet craving change, then addressing wounds that never fully healed, seeing that lots of parts of you still hurt. The journey hurts.
If it's another thing I'm still learning, it's that it is hard, and God is good. Not "it is hard, but God is good." No. God is real and true, and the hurting is just as valid and real, too.
"It is hard, and God is good."
and my variations then turn into:
"It is so hard, and God is good."
"It is still hard, and God is good."
Praise be to the One who daily bears our burden. Who daily bears us up. Who suffers for us and with us. Who enters in to where we are hurting and hurts with us, too.
That in and of itself is joy.
How marvelous, how wonderful is Your love, is Your love.
breathe deep, dear one.
love, cait
