crybaby

A wave of sadness descended on me and I began to cry, as soon as I started I knew I would write. It is like confessing a great sin. I can see the humour in the tears though I can do nothing about them, they still fall down my face, unabated.

Sometimes it lasts in love and sometimes it just hurts.

I hurt, my heart has been pierced, I feel like a jumbled up jigsaw, unable to piece it together. Crumpled in a heap.

But even in this state, I can feel joy. Joy that transcends this momentary misery. In a few seconds of grief, I will dust myself off, stand and walk tall, as the human God made me to be.

The thing with grief, to me, is the waves have no pattern. There is no warning, I would like a bell buoy in my head that would clink to give me a few minutes to collect my strength, to pray, to lay it at the feet of the Lord. Bt it doesn’t work like that.

I was blindsided, I had sat down to compose four pieces, to get ahead of tasks for next week, having found myself alone and at home with an internet connection but it just didn’t pan out that way. 

So am left feeling a bit blue, a bit sad and a bit lost. A plan is forming to lose myself in scripture. As I write I feel peace returning, maybe a cathartic short story will help…

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