One of the hardest things I've had to do lately is to sit with myself. Amidst sadness, loneliness, frustration, and disappointment, where there is nothing to do about any of it, the only thing to be done is to sit. I am in a waiting period. A desert. The old things are passing away, but the new things have not yet come. I've heard it called a liminal space. I've done all I know to do to bring myself forward. Now I must just wait.
There are things beyond my control that have to be worked out in someone else's timing. Trying to push forward, forcing a move, or rescuing myself from the pain by avoiding or numbing would be destructive.
So I have to just sit. Sit and breathe.
I am doing my best to get up every morning, be grateful for what I have, keep my eyes open to the very next opportunity, and submit to the simple purposes of eating and feeding my children, doing laundry, and picking up my stuff. It really is one step at a time, one day at a time. This is not at all my desired pace or level of productivity.
I must admit each day is not easier than the day before. Or if it is, I can't tell. The plodding is slow. I am thankful for sleep at night.
Two things I am wholly grateful for: my God who doesn't leave my side and my friends who keep asking, "How are you today?" They know better than to ask, "How are you?" The companions to my drudgery are giving me more than I feel I could ask of them. They share the load by taking turns.
If you are in a desert season, I hope you will take a deep breath and sit with yourself. As excruciating as it may be, you are not bad company. There are deep valleys to traverse and broad sunsets to witness within yourself. And the only way is through.
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