Pain is real.
It's hit me hard over the last three or four months. Knocked me down and dragged me, a beating wild ocean wave in the Pacific. Comes and goes. I lean in when it comes.
Joy is real.
It surprised me with the way it bubbles over; a dancing gust of merry wind. The shocking, I-can't-believe-I'm-laughing-right-now freedom.
Four months ago, I had to make a conscious, intentional choice to not numb pain. It was an option. But I realized that I wouldn't feel the joy.
Joy and pain walk hand in hand.
I'm learning to hold on to the dissonance with both hands open. To let the waves sweep me out and bring me back.
To make a cup of black tea, take a deep breath and try again. To see the little flashes of light flicker through my windows and smile. To notice how wonderful people are. To document. To run when I'm filled and rest when I'm empty.
To believe that God is good. To believe that He speaks. To believe that He sees.
Leaning in. Sitting. Believing. Trusting. Hoping.