Sometimes broken things don’t actually need fixing or mending right away. Occasionally they just need a moment, a bit of time. And patience. Maybe lots of persistence with a presence willing to sit with them while they heal. You never know what goes on in another person’s life. That old adage of walking in another person’s shoes or sandals or boots. Not sure what the footwear might be, but to be able to see otherness. Healing has no frame of chronology or objectivity. It just exists as life happens.
I wonder how long it takes for one to truly heal? To allow the vestiges of circumstances, life lived, that beat a way on the wearied heart, and be lifted up and away? Ah for that moment of release. A liked sense of owning aloud. To feel that invisible weight of agony or loss or forgiveness, whatever form it takes that we hang on to, good or bad, because it has no sides to it, to loosens its hold.
But in the mean time what does one do while walking through the steps of grief or sorrow or pain? A darkness that creeps in and out with a little glimmer of light catchings the edges of the darkness. Yet for no rhyme or reason, except maybe that merciful eternal hope within the human condition, a Divine steps in, a sacred mystery of sorts, comes a knocking. And on one normal ordinary day, during a morning or afternoon, a time in the daily, a tip of warmth comes upon your heart and it feels. Subtle, not too loudly, but hovers and shifts deeply and stirs. It might not be today nor even tomorrow, but at some point that withering cracked.
Oh my. Open that door wide. It’s okay to feel the curative drip of life seeping through upon that desert walk, arid and barren, to awash the worn and weary lone heart of yore. You are not alone. Not today. Blessings
Let us pray for those who are in need of our prayers and for those weary hearts who seek solace, curing and peace. Amen.
Karenpondering 