Near

These words poured out in a journal over a year ago and I came across them again this week. They helped my heart find expression once again (although for different reasons).

I’m sharing it for anyone else who may be reaching toward future hope in a difficult season.

“Near”

Brokenhearted.

Shattered.

Who is there to understand how many pieces of a soul there are or how far they’ve been scattered?

Who but You, Lord, can know the true weight of heaviness borne in times like this?

How can the load of the heart be measured at all?

Thick grief clouds the vision of the heart, the storm clouds building in intensity. Who is near to understand the severity of the storm, or to weather it together?

Slivers of light.

Not shafts of positivity, glaring, insisting on attention in the middle of turmoil, but glimmers and glimpses of present Grace.

Undemanding of notice. Uninsistent yet fully aware, fully invested, fully present. Lending strength and courage with no need to be acknowledged as the Source. Moving and working in ways that may never be recognized.

Arms wrapped around to shelter from the wind, without requiring thanks. Invisible, pervasive, wrap-around presence.

Light shines brightly above the storms. Always. Not removing or diminishing their reality or breadth.

One day, some day, the clouds will clear to reveal the fullness of Light. The glimpses of past Grace understood without wiping away the impact of the storms.

Warmth. Radiance. Truth. Presence unveiled.

To comment or subscribe, please view this post on Substack.