a confession.

::I’m not always okay. Days hang without home in the quiet.  Not all days, some.  I drift out with the tide receding, fleeing from shore, the sand on fire.  And all I want to do is float.  Maybe sink a little, too.

It gets lonely not forgetting.

The woman who was my wife, whom I loved fully and forever, died.

I remember what’s been done, how life would not stop, how her body would not heal, how I trusted God only with words while my heart seethed betrayal.  Yes, I remember.

I remember that I’m okay with what’s been done and in days laid in waste and wait, those words trusting bloomed alive.  I know that it is not my doing, but His strength continually coming into its own.

::I do not need to always be okay.

My grace is enough; it's all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness. (2 Cor 12:10, The Message)

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. (Psalm 147:3, NIV)