Heavy

I shouldn't be writing right now. I should be very asleep. But I can't sleep just yet. I've felt the urge to write all day, a growing ache like being too full but continuing to eat. It's painful to hold it in but life throws more and more at me and I've not had time to process it in written form.

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain and sharp wind, feeling like I'd swallowed and elephant or some other giant creature. I felt deep heaviness in my heart and a rock in my stomach. I couldn't tell you why, and despite my attempts to remain cheery I haven't been able to shake this chill, like it was permeating from within. As the day progressed, I grappled with the usual challenges and joys of being in my shoes right now. By all accounts this was a pretty great day. Yet all day I felt like crying, like my spirit was yearning to mimic nature and weep bitter tears. I've been periodically searching my spirit since this morning to see if I could discover the root of this malady, re-evaluating my emotions, my soul's condition, my circumstances. I'd like to have a focal point, a culprit to blame for this dull sadness that's nagged me since waking, something other than the icy rain and dreary skies. But I haven't found one.

I could write about a thousand little irritants. The way it bothered me when so-and-so said this, or the way I didn't have time for this, or how I'd forgotten about that, or the way this new problem arose. But all of these things seem petty, and this ache preceded them. I could also tell you about today's thousand little highlights. How that person made this comment, or how renewed I felt in this moment, or the fun I had doing this one thing. But none of it is the root. None of it hits on the cause of this ache. My mind feels muddled with all this thinking.

Today I'll just have to lean heavy on the knowledge that I am small and limited and broken, while God is expansive and omnipotent and whole. Today may never make sense, but it doesn't have to.