Too early to rise, yet I am lulled out of bed, wide awake and aware stars still gleam in the sky.
Coffee quickly brewing in the kitchen, my lifeline. This is how I arrive today—heavy eyelids, leaking heart.
This is a lonely season of my life. I am weary from holding back this truth.
Tell me that the night will end. Tell me that the light will come.
Teach my heart to wait in You, to be still and trust.
All that is within me wants to see the other side right now, to know the goodness comes my way, that what I sow in rows of tears will reap an abundance of joy.
You are always good, but this does not feel good to my heart right now. How do I hope when days stretch to weeks, to months, and then I somehow notice it’s been years?
You alone know the ways I am to walk, where each step leads, the trails, the turns, the unmarked maps.
How do I listen through the din of despair, when I stare it straight in the eye, stand at its edge, rock my toes over the ledge? How do I be still to see You go before me to make a way where there is a wall?
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