This one, written Monday morning before heading to the hospital, had been much more raw. Thank you Jen for helping me edit this into a readable form.
I am not brave; I am the farthest from it. I am a child in the night, clinging to covers pulled over my head--for that is were I am, over my head. All but consumed by Now, I have taken on water and The Now finds me jilted.
I am not brave; I am standing confused. Needing water to live, to thrive, but it is too much: too much grief, too much pain. A blinding tide, greater than all of me, but it is too much: too much grace, too much love: an outpouring greater than I’ve known.
I am not brave; I’m being poured out. Caught in the desire, wanting to walk on water yet, hearing the clash of thunder. Now feeling the spray of the waves, and too distracted, too overwhelmed. I begin losing sight and focus.
I am not brave; I’m in the struggle. Weighted at the point of saturation. Much more and I drown, or recoil to the extent that I grow dry, callous, and dead. Is it the desert or the sea? Am I to feel it all, or not at all?
I am not brave; I’m at my end. Thinking for a moment that I was capable and sure. Here is when I falter, now is when I stumble. Let he who thinks he stands be careful lest he falls.
I am not brave; I’m just here at such a time, in the tears and weeping. Startled by the shadow on the wall. Clinging to my comfort, my hand is weak and trembling. I look back into piercing eyes. The hand that grips mine is firm.
I am not brave; I am a child reaching up, not brave or strong or wise. My father’s hand is strong. He is bold and strong and wise. I hold my father’s hand; this is the hand that reached for me; that stops my reoccurring descent.
I am not brave; I have no need to be. I am not the power or force or strength. I am not the architect, creator, or sustainer. There is no need to be brave, for the hand I rest in cannot be shaken. This hand cannot be pried open, forced, loosened or persuaded to release.
I am not brave as it may at times appear. Don’t be mislead or deceived. Though I show bold actions in facing the challenge; stand strong under life’s attack, and move forward shedding fear. My father in the storm is clear. The Lord my God is here.