Death

Grace. Woven. Crazy.

When you are sorrowful, look and see it is that for which you mourn that has been your delight. Or something like that? I don't know. Anyway, it was just a quote I read somewhere, and it talked about being sad over things which brought you joy, and cherishing the depth of happiness brought about by the things that all but destroy you.

So many years I have mourned and wept and.... the sadness. Oh the SADNESS. I don't think there are many hells more furious - more unnecessary - than those of our own making. Wallowing in guilt and finding comfort in despair. CONSTANTLY confronted by the consequences of my choices, and forced to swallow down the bile that seeped so easily from the underbelly of my conscience.

And now - to stand in witness? To spelunk the caverns of a grace too deep to fathom, buoyed by the very experiences that had once been a millstone. To look into the face of a man who knows who I am, and yet absolutely adores me. Not just in SPITE of my past, but recognizing I am who I am today because of it.  What manner of love is this?

I have been given a finite glimpse of the infinite love and grace that has covered me these many years. Throughout my hells, defeats, and triumphs, he has been the constant. I may have felt naked and alone, but he was right there weaving together a future with colorful threads of mercy and consequence, patiently untangling the knots caused by my despair and impatience.

The work is FAR from complete, but what once seemed a hopeless pile of useless scraps, is now starting to take shape.

Crazy quilt, indeed.

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