2025 begins in 3 days or less, and I am lost somewhere back in October of last year, trying to make sense of how quickly life can change and how hard things can be and how good God is, all at the same time.
I tell it to my husband like this: it’s like life is a flooding river full of Very Urgent Things that need tending to, and I can only reach out to rescue them one at a time. This means a lot of missing out & letting go. A lot of unprocessed grief. A lot of muddled thoughts and emotions and unread books and going up a size or—wait for it—not one or two or three but four sizes since we lost our insurance last year. It means lots of essential things have raced downstream, and my bedraggled and starved self is gaunt of soul while I, myself, am heavy and heaving.