Sunday, July 3, 2011

Thinking, that's all: Afloat

We'd been playing phone tag for a week solid, coming almost to the point where I normally give up on the old phone conversation hopes and defer instead to e-mail.

But in a moment of serendipity and in a moment of grace, we connect.

Voices only, at first, just giving play by plays and catching up on each other's husbands and boys, but there is goodness in it nonetheless.

Though we haven't seen each other in a year, the conversation rolls right along, smoothly, comfortably and it's almost like she's actually walking next to me on the sidewalk, enjoying the same splashes of color streaking across the expansive blues of the dusky midwestern sky.

And like so many conversations we've had in the past, so many dialogues we've shared over the years, the talk of current events morphs into actual conversation of how said current events of life are settling and digging into our hearts.

I share that I've had some emotionally exhausting weeks, and though my husband had thrown me life line of grace just about a week ago, hauling me back to His feet, honestly, I admit, I'm still finding myself treading water to stay afloat more often than not.

She says she's had the same kind of previous week, too, one in which her church community also suffered an extremely soul-wrenching loss of a young life here on Earth.

Instead of just glossing over the hurt, she dives right into it with me -- into the depths of where those losses leave our reeling hearts and minds.

She goes there with me.

To the place of "why."

To the "I don't get it."

And to the "Where is He right now?"

Those places we don't normally don't tread water together, the places we try to swim alone in the deepness, in the vastness of our own oceans of thoughts.

So I grab onto the Lifeline she's clutching, too.

Again.

I grab onto His word, the Promises of grace and love and restoration that's she's reminding me of, reminding herself of by saying them aloud.

Even though it's deep and it's choppy and it's kind of scary, I finally stop kicking and thrashing and just hold onto those Promises for dear life, trusting that it will keep me afloat, thankful that He's sent another person to weather the waters with me.

Thankful that maybe, finally, I have come to the end of trying to swim it all by myself.

{And all of this after another friend poured some truth right into my ears -- but that's my Bigger Picture Moment for Thursday and an entirely new post.}

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