Sometimes the cure for what sits heavy on the heart is writing. I'm moody tonight. It's 11:30 and I should be in bed. Morning will come too quick. It always does.
But this melancholy feeling. Or does that even describe the mix? I want to pour out the details and let you decide, but I know that wouldn't work. What I have swaddled up inside my heart are feelings. And feelings do not always translate well into words. They like to hang together, on occasion, in a goopy mess defying expression.
Earlier tonight I spent an hour with a good friend. She listened while I talked. Good therapy it should have been. But it wasn't. I couldn't explain to my own satisfaction the deep source of my anxiety. I wanted to take two years of struggle and hand it to her in three well spoken sentences. What I gave her was an hour of babble. She's a good friend. To accept my prattle and even try to put all the pieces together took considerable effort. And what I gave her was so lacking.
These 'troubles' don't consume me. They don't even bother me most of the time. But when they're brought to the forefront, as they were tonight, I find they leave me weary. And disheartened. Perhaps a bit encumbered.
What's that? Am I carrying a burden, you ask?
Aye. Indeed I am. Funny how that's not what I expected to write. I wanted to pour out all the details in some kind of linguistic therapy and then delete it knowing that it could never be published. All the gory details. Let me tell you how it was. And is.
But that's not how it's meant to be. The words of a song I've been listening to a lot lately are ringing in my ears tonight. It's by a group called Casting Crowns and the chorus goes like this:
And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I am so thankful that God is who He is no matter where I am. Or what I am. Or anything about me really. He just IS. And He knows every detail that I'm not writing - even the ones I don't actually know either. He knows where all this started and he knows where it will end. He knows how big this is and how trivial it is. When it makes me so mad; And when I just get so tired of it all. Every bit of what I've felt or dealt with has been etched in his hand. Every bit.
And you know what I like the best on a night like tonight? He takes away the melancholy. I no longer feel that weight upon my heart. I'll be able to walk back up the stairs and go to sleep without exhaling grumpies or maneuvering a chip on my shoulder.
I know this one hasn't rolled away for good just yet. It'll be back. Another day. But in the meantime, I'm going to bed!
(You can listen to the chorus here - scroll down to the Lifesong CD. Praise You In The Storm is the second track.)