A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
I need the chance, like Elijah and Job, to sit and feel the pain. It may not be understandable to those outside of my daily walk, but that's how these things slam us sometimes. Unexplainable. Indescribable.
I don't need finger-wagging or raised eyebrows. I want someone to listen - simply listen. Can Christianity get back to that? Can I find a friend who will sit alongside me and allow me to weep? Can I find pure kindness?
After all, we can make a clear case for a split lip or a gashed finger. We can easily show you a punctured hand or even a broken bone. But a wounded spirit? A mourning soul? We don't have enough words in the dictionary to give the proper definition.
I've lost my energy. I find it hard to talk. About anything.
Don't assume a teacher pose. Don't look for a quick fix. And please don't analyze. Or tell me to stop grieving.
I need this time. I need this solitude.
