It’s amazing what happens when you live your own life. It’s so wonderful when you ignore social media. You don’t get bombarded by all these products that your friends apparently love & claim changed their life. It’s refreshing to take a walk whenever the sun is out and annoying when my old phone camera won’t capture the magic. But then, nothing could ever capture the magic I’ve seen just minutes from my home.
The winter blues don’t have me at all, because I’m already looking forward to the holidays of this year, and thinking about my fall bucket list, and dreaming about the flowers that are going to pop up in the spring fields after all this sopping wet rain.
I look at what I do have and what I don’t have. And somehow, it’s all more than enough. I want to write, but have few words to do so. I want to share, but know that some things are worth keeping close. I’m a broken record about joy & healing, and have been for about a year now.
But my heart is like the storm. There is a day of anticipation…everything is pent up. The skies are gray, the trees are preparing for the fury. The rain can barely contain its urgency to fall. The air swirls around me, pulsing, pausing, preparing.
And then the grief, the waiting, the wounds are falling. It drenches me in its waves, and oh how overwhelming. Can the sun break through this again? Is this puddle safe to jump in? It’s courage to try. It’s joy when tried. I find the puddles and feel the rain. There’s nothing easy about it, but there’s so much joy within it.
This wayward heart, the back & forth…I’m trusting God again. Joy does come in the morning, and broken records, in this respect, are the most beautiful kinds of music.
Everything has found a home…in Hope. The trees have found their knees, then found the sky again. The air is finally at rest… no swirling, no swelling. The rain has found a purpose as it always does…in the ground for spring flowers. I’m waiting for the world made beautiful in His time. Knowing I’m standing in some kind of beautiful already.
I’m listening to a broken record of grace, rest, and healing. I’m learning to confidently share it, though you may be tired of hearing it. But best of all I’m finding that storms are nothing to fear and broken records should never be turned off.
Sierra V. Fedorko 