Blessed are you, who feel the wound of fresh loss. or of the loss… no matter how fresh… that still makes your voice crack all these years later.
You who are stuck in the impossibility. Frozen in disbelief. How can this be? It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Blessed are you, fumbling around for answers or truths to make this go down easier. Who demand answers or are dissatisfied with the shallow theology and trite platitudes.
Blessed are we, who, instead, demand a blessing. Because we have wrestled with God and are here. Wounded. Broken. Changed.
Blessed are we, who keep parenting. Who keep our marriages and friendships and jobs afloat. Who stock the pantry…
because… what choice do we have? but to move forward with a life we didn’t choose. with a loss we thought we couldn’t live without.
one small step. one small act of hope at a time.