living gratefully :: bruising

We don't always bend low to hand the rocks over and allow them to be used for altar-making.

Usually, when the pain is deep we hold on to it.

We carry the rocks around and make room for them in our pockets.

Weighted down heavy, we try to live as if nothing is any different.

And yet, the weight becomes too much. Always too much for us to carry.

Fear bruises deep.

It burrows itself inside and makes a cozy place where our muscles feel stretched thin.

Once the windy roads seem to straighten, we try to stand taller, brush ourselves off, and ignore all that fear.

We tell ourselves that it was nothing and that it is silly to {still} be feeling.

But *feel* we do--the weight of the fear having been on us and the adjusting now to what has happened.

Just because it's over, doesn't mean it's over.

The effects of the ride are felt long afterward. Like car sickness, it sticks around for awhile. Nausea overwhelms. And bruises last.

Fear can be seen as a gift. 

It is a way to humble us and remind us Who God is. And that we aren't.

It brings us to our knees in surrender of our own abilities. We beg for help to get through.

I am living bruised.

The past few days have pushed at me from the insides and knocked me around a little. My heart has swelled. And ached. And crouched low.

This bruising is a gift, I am Seeing. 

This is my gratitude. And this is my worship.

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