i'm beginning to accept the silence. 

to get used to the nothing. 

to the emptiness that is never disrupted by the sound waves of the same three songs that somehow seem to wreck me a bit more every time i hear them. 

i'm getting used to the 'not knowing'. the 'not connected'. the 'what if i dont even exist anymore'. 

i dont know if it's a good getting used to. 

maybe it's a little bit of the both good and bad. 

silence 

my candles are silent. 

they try hard to comfort me. 

they try hard to make me feel safe. 

to make the strangeness seem familiar.

the wax is melting silently beneath the faithful flicker. 

surrender 

it gives itself away. it allows itself to be used up. so maybe i'll crack a weak smile. 

each candle has its own rhythm. 

it's working. 

i feel comforted. 

they carry a presence. a promise. 

giving is healing. 

lending love is the only way you'll ever get it back. 

sowing grace is the only way you'll reap a harvest of kindness. the only way you'll experience the miracle of a Heaven that breaks itself wide open to rain mercy. 

i close my eyes. 

my orchard is dry. 

my fruit has been swallowed by the wilderness sun. 

the cracks in the parched dirt seem to cry out against me. 

where there is no breaking. there is no sowing. where there is no tending. there is no reaping. where there is no reaping. there is no giving. 

eyes open. 

i look down. 

my hands look tired. 

they want to be held. 

but they're afraid of getting broken. 

they're afraid Someone will let go. 

sigh

i grab my journal 

s c r i b b l e     s c r i b b l e 

words are my healing. 

the pen can say all the things my tongue doesnt know how. 

the ink memorizes my every thought and repeats them on the page over and over again. 

silence

strange thing. 

how words written down are silent. 

how you can write an infinity on paper and no one would ever know. 

but i know. 

...

but You know. 

what is pain. 

i want to ask You this. but You seem to want to dig deeper. 

i resist. 

but the question is fighting my shield of self-protection. it wants to be asked. 

i relent. 

okay. 

what is 'to be alone'. 

| is true dying being forgotten | 

You nudge my soul. 

You tug my heartstrings. 

You look up into my eyes and gaze straight into the galaxy of my mind. 

straight into the cosmos chaos of my tangled up soul. 

i feel You. 

pressing me to give in and let go.

letting go is different than giving up, child. 

oh, is it? 

strange thing. 

maybe if you learn to surrender you'll be ready to receive. 

i squirm. 

You have a way. a way of making all the deep in me surface to the top. 

but it doesnt want to be seen. 

it wants to hide in isolation. 

i s o l a t i o n 

no, child. i have a way of making the broken in you learn what it means to be loved. 

i was never meant to be alone. 

perfect is always a performance. 

because the authentic is always messy. 

but the messy is always real. 

and the real is always beautiful. 

letting yourself be loved is a different sort of giving. it's the giving of your vulnerability. it's the giving of the rawness that feels safer when untouched. when you let your hurt be seen, it heals. 

giving. 

to give. to be given. to be given to givenness. 

to pour and pour and pour until all of you is empty. 

then will you be full. 

i smile. 

and i mean it too. 

You smile back at me. 

see, child. it's not all that hard.

You reach out your hand. 

Your palms are closed. there's something hidden in the middle of your gentle fist. 

i look up. 

                                                           { childlike joy. wonder }

' what's inside? ' 

your miracle. 

You smile. 

but you must first reach out. open your hand. brave the emptiness. let go. and surrender to the receiving of My gift. 

brave the emptiness. 

it rings in my soul. 

brave the emptiness. 

brave the 'what if all my love is never deserving of being loved'. 

i reach out. 

open my hand. 

and dare to experience the surrendering. 

Your anything is greater than my nothingness. 

the edge of Your garment holds more power than the universes combined. 

the faintest whisper of You can gather up my nothingness and create preciousness. 

let me love you. 

let me reach into the places that are craving to be touched. 

let me take you into the vulnerable of the uncomfortable so you can taste the sweetness of the nearness. 

receive my miracle. 

you place your precious gift in my shattered up hands. 

the sweet exchange. 

my nothing. for your everything. 

my emptiness. for your fullness. 

i smile. 

You smile. 

welcome to love, child. 

- - - 

even in the silence. 

i feel it coming. 

deep in my bones. 

in the depths of my deep. 

in the hidden. in the longing. in the waiting. 

my miracle. 

it's on its way. 

your promise. 

it's on its way. 

your "every good and perfect gift". 

like a rain cloud in the distance ready to shower my life with a storm of passion and gentle grace. 

i know it. 

my miracle. 

it's coming.