What Jesus Does With Our Collective Mess
I don’t know what to say to her. What are the magic words to a person’s heart?
My story is not hers–we each carry different burdens and wounds. But yet, in our pain, we are somewhat the same, aren’t we?
Isn’t pain pain? Isn’t sorrow sorrow? Isn’t fear fear? Or does one person’s burden weigh more than another’s? And, if so, does this make them more or less able to carry it?
Breaking Our Own Hearts
Sometimes, there just aren’t words. It is not that life isn’t happening, that there isn’t meaning in the day-to-day.
It is that a part of us needs to quiet.
There is no big problem to solve, no hard pain to treat.
We are in a space with all possibility and hope, yet claiming this space feels distant somehow.
Unless we slow.
Will you let my quiet fill you? Will you let my tenderness pull you under?