The epidemic of worry is a terrifying wraith. This harrowing bacteria eats away at our strength and dignity we were once clothed with. It nags and torments, snagging and tearing away at the fabric of our personhood, until there is nothing but thin strands that dangle across our shoulders. There is no resemblance of peace and prosperity, but our once gentle skin is exposed to every harsh element, hope mocked by the rough reality of our circumstances.
In a world of projects and to-dos, it seems impossible to not be defined by our achievements or lack thereof. But the human tendency to provide a motivational speech or an encouragement to try harder next time are only reminders that we have fallen short. Healing is found in love’s simplicity, in consolation from something outside ourselves.
My soul is quieted by the ocean’s constant waves falling into the shore; The silence of a room at rest; My husband beside me, affirming even my vainest efforts; Knowledge that there are possibilities that reach beyond my abilities.
Threads are restrung and woven again into garments of peace and protection.
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Please excuse these musings of an emotional pregnant lady.
They may seem like nonsensical ramblings, but as with most posts, they are more
for me to process and document than for you. I know, I am incredibly selfish. I only hope my vulnerability counts for something.
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