wading and waiting

i know, i know. i haven't updated in a while. it's mostly because there isn't much to tell. life has marched right on as it tends to do. it trampled me into the ground for a bit, and now i'm trying to pick myself back up, dust myself off, and trudge on, one foot in front of the other.

the one bright spot in the past week is that my dad and big brother could come down over the weekend and visit with us for a couple of days.

my days have turned dark. even in the midst of the weather finally shifting more toward fall, life is heavy. the blanket of night constantly covers me.

when i was younger i took great solace in the stars. when i wanted to be completely alone i would run outside to the backyard, climb atop our old swing set, and sit on the monkey bars. from there i would gaze upon the stars. i would talk to God about everything on my mind - some days i was grateful, other days i shouted - but either way i would grow calmer as i looked up at the night sky.

{via buzzillions.com}

{via apod.nasa.com}

why wouldn't i trust the God of the universe who placed all the stars in the sky, and knows each one by name? yet, this time night seems scarier, darker somehow.

this time i can't just jump back into life. i have to wade. slowly.

i try to wait patiently even as the waves crash on me, and all around me. my eyes sting from saltwater tears. all i see ahead of me is ocean. waves. storms.

so tonight, i'm trying [and mostly failing] to remember something i heard years ago -- sometimes God calms the storm, and sometimes he calms the child.

i've been hoping the storm would calm down for a while, but on it roars. so now all i can hope - when i still have room for hope -

is that he will calm this child.