It’s been hard for me to write here lately because of many things but mostly because it has felt false to come here and share pretty pictures and light type things when the truth is this: I struggle. It’s very much like when Tom and I bicker. I’m horrible at small talk until there is a resolution.
This isn’t some big thing brought on by sickness, tragedy, huge hurting. It’s just the daily type of thing that makes a murky mess of life sometimes. The biggest portion seems to be that in six months my youngest will be in school. On the day he starts it will have been 11 years that I’ve had a small one at my table for lunch, that I’ve tucked tiny toes in for nap time, that I’ve snuggled with pudgy arms mid-morning. I won’t lie. It hurts and I feel full of something akin to opportunity. Mostly, I feel burdened by what is next. It’s a question and I don’t know the answer or if there even has to be a next at all. But everyone seems to be interested in it and I feel a bit like I’m circling something I’m equally afraid of and confused by.
This thread in the woven thing that is my life is pulling everything a bit out of shape and I’ve struggled with some feelings of significance, or really lack of. I know all the right and true things. It’s just that I wear myself out trying to do it right, even the struggling. It seems so silly to type out here that I actually think about whether I do it wrong the right way.
In my Bible study, we’re digging into Mark. This week, I read as Jesus asked Peter who He was. You are the Christ, Peter answered. In tearful contemplation, I’ve wondered what He really is to me.
On Sundays I’ve been making bread. It’s good and I’ve always wanted a bit too much to be like Ma Ingalls. It’s easy and quick and in the course of a few hours, I can have warm bread on a plate. And Jesus is the bread of life. Bread that can only be enjoyed, taken in, when it is broken.
I know that He is broken for me and brokenness in me. And so I’m learning to lean in to the winnowing, allowing Him to bring me to the end of myself and over murky messes so that I will see Him more clearly.
I wonder. Who is Christ to you? In me, He is the end of should be, the beginning and existence of grace, freedom.