By Anne Williston
~ words meant for reality ~

You are indeed my rock and my fortress;
for your name’s sake lead me and guide me,
take me out of the net that is hidden for me,
for you are my refuge.
Into your hand I commit my spirit;
you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God.

- Psalm 31:3-5

I walk upstream, pausing to take a picture.  A broken stump next to the river catches my eye.  I walk over carefully, observing the small greenery growing from its center. Crouching to take a photograph, I reflect on the new life springing from the dead wood.  Will it remain?  Can it find nourishment from the rotten, crumbling roots of what was once a strong tree?

 

I stand too quickly, turn, and fall into the hole where the roots of another tree once were.  I take a quick breath, as the stitches from my recent surgery pull, a reminder I haven’t fully healed.  I brush off my jeans, and walk farther along the river.  Finally, I turn around and head back.  I realize noone waits for me at home.  The kids are out with friends.  I slow my pace and decide to find a place to rest for a few moments.  I spy a rock next to the river.

 

I sit carefully, unwilling to overbalance into the water. I try to quiet my heart, which is lonely and filled with the anguish of separation.  My emotions stream along the surface of my soul, as the stream slides by, swiftly and smoothly, without ever stopping.  How can I go through each day, without letting those emotions overpower me?  It seems impossible to me.

 

Like the hole into which I accidentally stepped, there are emotional holes all around me as I walk through the day.  Some I can avoid, but others I have to try to walk around without falling in, and that is very, very hard. Some are hidden, and I stumble into them without warning.

 

Catching my breath, I force my head up and the tears to subside.  Else, I’d never stop crying.  My life isn’t over.  I must go forward.