I Waver


Band of Horses – The Funeral

The August corn is tall in the fields now, reshaping the landscape from a rolling long-distance view to a near-sighted maze. On a dusky drive on Adelaide I noticed the dips and curves of the road are familiar to me, but my line of sight was obscured by green stalks and waving tassels. The obscurity changed how I drove, a bit more cautiously, a bit less hurried.

I waver, on my best days, with a lot of prayer in the midst of the mess. If this is the messy middle part, the end is certainly not in sight. It’s uncomfortable and slow at times. It gets murky and dark and then all at once the sun shines brightly, only to be eclipsed again in an instant.

Reason tells me seasons change; they’re not forever. It won’t always feel this way even if circumstances remain the same. I’m not sure what exactly shifted for this to be the season I’m going through, but I’m determined to walk with grace and hope. And I’m learning to sit in it, especially grateful for friends who sit there with me in a sandwich shop and cry. You can’t know how much that helps.


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