this morning i thought life had pricked my balloon and the rest of the day was a slow deflate. one tear came, then another and another. each time i finished crying, i thought i had poured it all out. and yet, it was only noon and i knew there were more to come. i couldn't wait for the day to be over putting my hope in the fresh of a new morning. but i still had many hours left until the moon would rise to give hope that the end of today was near. so, what do you do with a day that starts off bad and continues that way until you feel it couldn't get any worse? what do you do when you crave the night and its covering of darkness, only the sun is paused at its height in the sky?
i don't know if there's a salve for every day that is like the one i'm having today, but for this moment, i'm balming myself with Lamentations 3:21-23:
this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
how interesting that in our laments, His compassions never fail us. in fact, his mercies are new every morning - and that's what i'm clinging to. while i'm sure the rest of the afternoon will bring as many tears as the morning did, it's important for them to be shed. i need the catharsis that crying brings. i need to experience this suffering - for without it, i don't have the hope of redemption.
i've said it over and over to many people, lately: you don't put a bandaid on skin that hasn't been cut. there is no hope for redemption without being cut wide open and acknowledging that we need the good nurse to care for us and ultimately, make us whole again.