The sky is grey, the ashes are settling, the dust is clearing, the moon will soon be rising, and the darkness that comes with it will be drowning the sobs but not drying the tears.
I am desperate. I am searching. I am desperately searching for a sign, for a glimpse. “Think happy thoughts” they told me “Focus on the good” they said “You have to choose to be happy” I heard. I was squinting, trying as hard as I could but my vision had drowned in the darkness.
The next night the moon was gone, and the night after that, and the night after that. In its place was a blanket of darkness and an occasional streak of light followed by the rolls of thunder. The rain was pouring and the wind howling.
For nights on end it was the same until I awoke one morning to only a drizzle. Light pitter patters on my roof top and windows. I wanted to look out my window but I knew what I would see- dark clouds, barren land. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. It was like a pull. I tried to resist it but like an involuntary heartbeat my feet kept moving until my palms rested on the glass. I felt the cold air, it sent a slight shiver down my back. My lashes were resting on my face. I didn’t want to open my eyes, I knew what I would see but the pull was taking over my senses. I forced my eyes shut but it was no use in a few seconds my lids flew open and I was right. I knew what I would see.
It was a wasteland. The clouds were still grey and the sun still gone. I turned to walk away when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I saw colour, so I turned to focus. The more I looked, the more I saw.
I could see the slightest ray of sun rest on a bed of thorns. At the very spot where the ashes were laid I saw the gleaming petals of a red rose. My rose.
It had to push past the hard ground, past the ashes, weather the storms. I felt like she was beckoning me, willing me to find hope. It looked so peaceful and delicate yet strong and perfect.
She was there all along growing and breaking through so that we could have this moment. My rose made me believe again, my rose gave me hope, my rose awoke my faith.
That was the first of many roses, one of a few storms and one of even more lessons.
For the hurt and broken, there is hope.
This mini-series was much harder than I expected it to be. Not just trying to work with other people’s schedules but the amount of time and the level of emotion it took to put together. I am grateful to my friends for both of those things. And I know that if this helps just one person out there find their way then it would be worth everything.
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You know there’s nothing but love from my end
What I am listening to right now: The Garden by Kari Jobe.Listen to The Garden by Kari Jobe