This blessing will (hopefully) be what you need
for these days, because the world needs what you carry, needs your steady presence, your give-a-damn, your tender heart, your unflinching faith.
I suppose this blessing could throw gasoline on the burning rage in your heart, igniting and becoming a wildfire of righteous anger. This might help for a while. God knows it's appropriate to be angry. I suppose this blessing could stoke your cold fears the ones that keep you up at night, in fear for your children (there is no such thing as other people's children). It could become a litany of legitimate horror and anxiety, hand-wringing and pacing beside you. I suppose this blessing could excuse and mince words, it could justify and blur the jagged edges, it could cry, peace, peace, when there is no peace, and probably shame you a bit. I suppose this blessing could offer weak comfort and bland generalities of passive hope. It could pat you on the head, ignore reality, quote Bible verses, offer cross-stitched platitudes of how God is in control blah blah blah. I do wish this blessing could fix it all, solve it all, heal it all. I rather hope this blessing will speak from God's heart straight to your heart, with exactly what you need right now. (My expectations are very reasonable.) So instead, this blessing will be with you, as an ancient hope, a deep knowing, an anchor in the storm, and a resolute determination to love, love, love. This blessing isn't waiting for everything to be solved. It is rolling up its sleeves and getting to work - that ordinary work, unsexy work, uncredited and unacknowledged work - and it will not be destroyed. It will wake you if you are asleep. It will comfort you if you are fearful. It will offer you hope if you are despairing. It will bear witness to your tears and it will remind you to keep singing. This blessing will abide in Love, then invite you to walk upon and make yourself at home within that certainty in the uncertain times. It will not allow you to get away with much, not even hating your enemies. This blessing will speak the truth to you, or through you, or for you. This blessing will recognize your reality, and it will not pretend to be fine, not anymore. This blessing will prepare a way in the wilderness. It will meet the darkness, face-to-face, beside you, and hold your hand, reminding you that our eyes adjust and darkness can become a friend. It will pack your bag for the journey ahead. It will probably tuck in a few treats (but alas, never a map). It will walk beside you all the way into the night, confident in the horizon's eventual dawn. It will look the worst in the face and raise its chin in defiance. Let them underestimate you, this blessing is resilient, it knows you are tougher than they think. This blessing will equip you for all that these days demand. It will name your grief and your fear, your rage and your disbelief, your hopelessness and your vain attempts to numb the pain, as beloved, as belonging, as born again, as precious even as it places them all back into their proper homes, and even sweeps the floor of self-pity and bitterness. Or perhaps this blessing will let you rest, it will tuck you into bed with a novel. It will light a candle on the coffee table and turn off the television. It will read aloud to your children, and put a soup on the stove. It will open your front door to the night and the stars and the lonely. This blessing needs your stubborn, ridiculous, determination to love. It will not tell you to not be afraid or angry or despairing. It just needs you to also become an outpost of what you most hope is true, even now. This blessing will (hopefully) be what you need, for these days, because the world needs what you carry, needs your steady presence, your give-a-damn, your tender heart, your unflinching faith.
Love S.
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What a balm to my weary soul today - thank you, Sarah as always for speaking into the spot where the words need to go. I love you.
Thank you for being a shelter in the storm, a calm for the heart, a peace in uncertainty, a balm for the soul, and a reminder to be all we can be in this broken world. Yes, and to offer our own brokenness in mercy.