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Strange Fruit

"We all have a secret pain. We all have a tender place. We were born to want more and no I'm not meant to live alone, but this is the life I know." ~ India Arie

I've been reflecting a lot this month on my own, and sometimes, luckily or intentionally, with others. 

It's been a strange month, one that started out overly emotional, and will end with raw emotional. I've run the gamut this month from trying to go slowly, to take care of myself to taking my emotions out on my family, using their proximity as an excuse. Then, just like that, an email came that broke me in half. 

People get bad news every day. This was just too close. It was too hard. Too unfair. No

I've been inside myself reflecting on this maybe a bit too much. I went outside. I folded laundry. I wrote. I pretended not to notice my eyes welling up washing the dishes. This feels stuck, and it feels long, and I want to give it back. This 'another' day, would be one so many of us will never forget. By proxy, I cried and tried to push my prayers toward the middle of the country, up through the wind currents. 

This month, that is usually so celebratory, nostalgic, and warm, is just sitting heavy, and I'm ready to mark the last day of the calendar, while still trying to practice gratitude for the blessings (and there are many) in my own life. A family inviting us to dinner, a day spent with close friends, the gift of a touching story are all things that are 'saving me', as Barbara Brown Taylor writes. 

As I exhale into the Advent season, I pray for comfort for those who mourn, and there are many. If I had to choose a favorite liturgical season (is that even a thing?) Advent would be mine. 

Dark, quiet, reflective, with a Bright Light guiding. The only thing in the night's sky. 


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