Tuesday, May 30, 2017

I cried today

I cried today. 
Maybe it was the realization of dreams that aren't fulfilled. 
Maybe it was the conversation with the woman who is about to lose her father. 
Maybe it was the sadness at events in our world, the knowing that people hate simply because there are differences among us. 

I cried today. 
Maybe it was because I looked up, and my son is a man already. And he lives far away. 
Maybe it was the way my daughter's face is morphing into a young lady rather than a little girl. 

I cried today. 
Maybe it was the joy of celebrating a friend's well-deserved vacation. 
Maybe it was looking across the table at work to see people I genuinely love in my life. 
Maybe it was the simple text my love sent to tell me he was thinking of me. 

I cried today. 
And yesterday. 
Chances are I will cry tomorrow. 
I seem to do this more and more at 44. 
Sometimes it's the simplicity of warm sunlight on my face that takes me back to lazy days on the beach. 
Sometimes it's a quiet sunset, reflecting a million different colors that remind me of the vastness of my Abba. 
Sometimes it's the sadness of questioning if I'm enough. 
Sometimes it's the knowing that I am. 

And I'm learning that all of it can exist together, in a single day, a single hour, a single moment. 
We humans are extravagant creations, made to reflect the Creator. 
We are capable of joy and sadness,   wonder and doubt, fear and fearlessness, freedom and bondage, worry and trust. All at once. 
What we do with those inconsistencies tells so much about who we are and whose we are. 

Oh, let me reflect the Glory of the One who is all. 
When I cry, let it be to Him. 

Let me cry freely and fully-for joy, for sorrow, for celebration, for fear. For life.