To the moon
and back. That was the response I never thought I would hear in this moment…
let alone this lifetime. I haven’t felt this sad in awhile. Joy? I fight hard
for it. Exhaustion? Its frequent. Anger? Of course. But sadness? I hate it with
a passion. And yet here I am. So very sad.
People I know and love keep dying.
People I know I am supposed to love,
despite their evil, keep hurting.
I bury it. I avoid it. I tell myself
I am still safe, better off, okay.
Then shit hits the fan and everyone
thinks I am capable of being strong… at least I think they feel this way.
Maybe
I just tell myself that so I don’t blame myself for when it gets this bad.
Interventions. Control. Lessons on
boundaries. Tough talks. Sleepless nights.
One day it’s the news. Another day
it’s your city. Then it’s your friend.
Some days you’re so busy trying to
save the world you miss the very pain right in front of you.
I imagine
myself to be a lot like Jessica Jones. Able to kick ass, investigate the
problems, has a passion for justice and fighting the “bad guy” but really
struggling with the worlds view of me and unable to reconcile “following
protocol.” Also bourbon.
Don’t confuse this with me comparing myself to a hero.
It’s the exact opposite actually. I am trying to identify why or who my cynical
mind and broken heart resemble. Because Jesus is just too hard these days.
And now all
the evangelicals are gasping because “does she still love God?!” and my friends
who have never seen God in ways that make them believe are leaning in a little
closer.
I think I have been distracted from a purpose,
from a reason. I know what I have been getting out of bed for. I know that I
have deep love and joy every time I get bear hugged by a kid or told by a
parent they see change in their child.
People I know and love keep dying.
People I know I am supposed to love,
despite their evil, keep hurting.
I bury it. I avoid it. I tell myself
I am still safe, better off, okay.
Then shit hits the fan and everyone
thinks I am capable of being strong… at least I think they feel this way.
Maybe
I just tell myself that so I don’t blame myself for when it gets this bad.
Interventions. Control. Lessons on
boundaries. Tough talks. Sleepless nights.
One day it’s the news. Another day
it’s your city. Then it’s your friend.
Some days you’re so busy trying to
save the world you miss the very pain right in front of you.
I’ve had the
same nightmare for 8 years now.
Yesterday I
felt like it was becoming reality and my body went numb.
There is
confusion and loss and celebration happening despite.
Where I
live. The community I found myself to be part of. Celebrates milestones a
little different. Yesterday a lot of mine started college. And I happily took
calls and texts explaining how classes went and that “they might like this
college thing.” Today some turn 16 and I praise God they are here to see it. That she is here to see it.
This community has mourned the loss and the
pain for so many the past few months. Families afraid to walk down the street
or answer the door. And then you have young dads bringing their babies to the
center because they know they are safe and they can play ball and still be kids,
even if it’s just for an hour. But I have to wonder how long I can keep them
safe.
People I know and love keep dying.
People I know I am supposed to love,
despite their evil, keep hurting.
I bury it. I avoid it. I tell myself
I am still safe, better off, okay.
Then shit hits the fan and everyone
thinks I am capable of being strong… at least I think they feel this way.
Maybe
I just tell myself that so I don’t blame myself for when it gets this bad.
Interventions. Control. Lessons on
boundaries. Tough talks. Sleepless nights.
One day it’s the news. Another day
it’s your city. Then it’s your friend.
Some days you’re so busy trying to
save the world you miss the very pain right in front of you.
But then…
some rotten kid you least expect says, “to the moon and back.”
