I’ve been staring at my blank screen for about an hour.
I’ve written three or four different beginnings and deleted them because I had no clue where they were going.
I’ve pulled out my journal and jotted phrases, I’ve pulled from conversations this week that have shaken me and provided me no answers but just the assurance that I’m still going and I’m still here. I’ve pulled from moments of wanting to punch people from their ability to challenge me to my feet.
I don’t think people read my blog for answers.
I think maybe they read it because I flood their newsfeed with links, others read it because they are kind humans, and other read it because hopefully to see if what I am saying is what they are saying too.
I’ve been taking a lot about (or a lot around) God these days.
God and I are currently in a season of life where our relationship doesn’t work the same as it used too. So, we (me) are trying to figure out what it looks like now. In reality I am choosing to believe it’s because it’s deeper than it ever has been.
When I write I try my best to relate to people where they are. I try to use broad terms and illustrations to remind as best I can that we are all human.
I try to make sure that people who read this, be it people who see me on a daily basis or people that have seen me in months or people that have never met me, know that on a basic level, I am always ok.
The ok may be shaken sometimes but it’s always there.
The season/process/chunk of life I’m in right now is definitely a “shaky ok” kind of season. Mainly in terms of my faith, and my relationship with God and my inability to receive beautiful soul-filling words that are currently being said to me.
All the things in my life that used to work aren’t working anymore.
And so, I write for you from the middle.
I write from the middle so that you know that the middle is ok.
That these stories and processes and lives we are a part of creating are good and beautiful even when they feel ugly and hopeless.
I share my stories and my beliefs or lack thereof to show you that we aren’t that different whether you believe in my God or another God or nothing at all.
I don’t know what the answer is for me right now. I chose not to go to church this morning hoping to find some semblance of a response and was met with silence.
But, I know that silence wasn’t actually silence. It was incredibly loud in actuality.
And I say that for this reason: what may feel like silence isn’t. What may feel like the universe or god or whomever isn’t responding isn’t that. There is something there. I swear.
I don’t think people read my blog for answers because I sure as hell don’t have them.
So, whatever you are going through, whatever seems insurmountable, whatever doesn’t seem right or true or hopeful.
Know that you are the thing that is hope.
You are the thing that can get over the mountain.
And maybe, all you need to know, is that we are here, together.
One response to “But we are here, together.”
[…] remember how I found her but she’s a World Race alumni and a really gifted writer) calls this writing from the middle. I fell in love with that phrase from the second I first read it, and now I’m trying to get […]