Grace and Grief Laced.
My veins are filled with grace and grief. Grace to care for the pain. Grief to mourn the sin...
My veins are filled with grace and grief. Grace to care for the pain. Grief to mourn the sin. I can feel every strain in every muscle. I can feel the vessels contracting, pumping blood throughout my body. I feel the tendons in my eyes pulling my nerves to dim the bright lights. I can feel the ingrown hairs. I feel joints cracking as they welcome this “good old age” of my mid-twenties.
I found a pocket of writing where I feel safe. The place in writing where breath and earth combined into life. Wishing these dusty cells I call a body could be more, could be stronger, could be holier than what they indeed are--dirt and Holy Spirit.
I mourn these shards of dreams and expectations before me,
Parties I can no longer attend.
Music I will never listen to.
Foods I am afraid to taste.
My veins are filled with grace and grief. Grace to care for the pain. Grief to mourn the sin. Filling my insufficiency, God’s mercy overwhelms my burdened heart. The handful of friends I have are treasured and close. When my body and brain allow time to enjoy their company, I savor each moment like sips of coffee and cream, bitter and sweet.
For if I gulped their presence down,
my mind would certainly drown,
Too much love.
Too much kindness.
Too much grace from above.
My veins are filled with grace and grief. Grace to care for the pain. Grief to mourn the sin. Every day my heart cries out. For justice. For peace. For rest. There are no words to express this pain, only groans and sobs.
So good — saving and tucking this away to carry on to...