Quiet now, love
I don't have a pretty picture to put with this.
I don't have some shocking thing to say.
I don't have some bowl-me-over truth.
Just simply what is true.
Here I am. In a vastly new space from a year ago. I've really stretched my voice this year. I walked all the way to the edge of the earth and sat down, barefoot, looking into the blackness and brightness of everything.
Many things have died. Except me. I am more alive than ever.
I'm going to be quiet for a little while, love. There is some unknown ahead. A lot of joy. Infinite tenderness. Questions. Maybe some answers. No matter what happens, I will be doing some deep-soul-searching and being and wondering and dancing and finding my words and loving and being loved.
I might even write that book I've been dreaming of.
This space holds a rich archive. Not in volume, but in vulnerable and mostly uncomfortable truth. I may be right in some things. I may be wrong. Maybe I'm right and I'm wrong. Nevertheless, it is eight-thirty-one on the twentieth of September and here is what I know:
God is a good, good Father.
This is not the end. No matter what happens over the next days, months, years, for believers, life is just beginning.
Please believe. That's really it. No sneaky agenda.
(I wish I knew that a long time ago.)
It's all worth it for the joy.