“I wonder if you, yourself, always feel as neatly tied up about these matters as you seem to in these passages,” she said.

…And then I had to re-think every chapter.

I’ve written extensively about my life, and what sense I can make of it. I’ve tried to find the meaning behind the pain, the beauty coursing through each struggle.

As noble as that sounds, it’s also a practice in futility.

Not because there’s not meaning and/or beauty in even the most difficult circumstances. God can use anything for good, after all. It’s futile because I cannot expect myself to always find that silver lining through the rain in my eyes. And what then? If I can’t see it, does that mean it’s not there?

I have to believe it’s there, since I follow One whose intention is to save me, in every aspect. But I can’t expect myself to know His mind, or predict His next move.

Sometimes all I can do is live there in the storm, wind howling, hail bruising, and take the darkness as it is.  Sometimes all I can do is allow myself the grace, the space, to grieve.

I am now resisting the urge to tie this post up with one of my “neat little bows.” I’ll spare you that. Life doesn’t come gift-wrapped.

Wherever you find yourself today, find a way to be there. Just be.