Night is drawing in. It happens daily - sometimes with a flourish of stunning color, sometimes with a whisper and a gentle fading of the daylight. Tonight it feels sudden and it brings my sadness closer to my heart.
I try watching the cat as he races around chasing prey that only he can see, but find tears pricking my eyelids. I watch the dog as he jealously guards his food and water, and find that I am guarding my wounded heart. Doubts wash over me in the growing darkness and all the lights in the cottage are not enough to keep them away tonight.
Lord, why this way? Why, when I try to serve you as faithfully as my human limitations will allow me to, do you allow my world to be swept out from underneath me? Where are you in this?
There is comfort, but it feels cold and hollow in this moment of darkness. One more reason for those friends who look at my life wondering how I can remain so stubbornly a member of a christian church when those whom churches have lifted up as leaders have let me down so many times to ask me if I can continue to be a part of it. Tonight I cannot answer their question. I have no answers left.
I want to wander out into the darkness, away from the street lights and headlights. To find my place like Jacob and wrestle with God over this latest betrayal until I can find the blessing in it. Instead I wander in words. I try to put names to all of the fears, doubts, worries, and tangents swirling through my head. I know that someday I will be able to claim the blessing in all of this pain. To see the light shining through the darkness and not feel as if it was there to burn me instead of heal me.
These words begin the healing. A simple, concrete act of moving forward. Allowing the cleansing of the wound to happen. It hurts, but each time it will hurt less. Morning will come and one day I will notice that the light no longer burns me and I will be free.