It‘s been a year since our home sold and we sprinted headlong from the edge of logic and reason in search of a truer tomorrow.
Shaking the entanglements like dust from our feet … throwing our rights to the wind trusting in heavens hands to catch us as we fell ….
Blind faith in those whispered words,
“take my hand and see what I will do.”
When all hope is lost, and these words were all we had, heaven held faithful.
Had you asked me then, I would have told you that my story is over, but now I see it was only the prologue passing by. I have learnt and relearned a thousand lessons over these long months …
That love was never at my table.
That walking in truth will hurt and cost you dearly, but it’s a price worth paying.
That learning to own your voice is hard after a life of silence and compliance.
That percentages don’t birth freedom, but wisdom in when to fight does.
That second chances aren’t always golden.
That you can find scars in places you don’t recall being cut.
That sometimes the only way to mend a badly healed break is to reset it and start again.
That healing hurts !
That its harder to forgive yourself for misplaced trust than it is to forgive the one that lost it.
That each new day holds new grace.
That even though you feel you can’t, you can.
That faith can be borrowed when your own is shaky.
That good friends are scaffolding to a life in renovation.
That heaven provides always.
That life balance is an artform I have yet to master.
That opportunities still come even when you don’t seek them.
That saying yes, even when you’re scared, takes you places that staying in comfort zones never could.
That miracles still happen.
That divorce decrees can trigger immense relief and unbearable grief in the same moment.
That unhealed hurt can rear it’s head at the most inconvenient times.
That tears are the only water that grows gardens of healing.
That broken people bleed on others and little hearts were never meant to carry such a downpour.
That time and space are healing salves to fragile young souls.
That beauty does rise from dust.
Ashes do birth life.
That hope is like a web of spider silk, weaving itself in, under and all around in the most unlikely places.
That provision is divine responsibility and comes in a vast array of ways.
That family is the sweetest thing and comes in many forms.
That a broken home is what we had before, but now whole is who we are.
That life is hard, but God is good, and tomorrow always comes.