Canyons
Numb. Worn out.
That’s a good word to encapsulate the physical and emotional struggle of the last few weeks/months. Grieving what was, what could be, what should be, and what is.
It has felt like an ever-rotating ferris wheel of Big Things to deal with — as soon as one issue dumps you out, the next scoops you up and takes you for a ride.
I was relaying my empty and worn down state to a friend. She gave me this word picutre:
The Grand Canyon is a beautiful and breathtaking site of something being worn down.
No one says, “You know, this place was so much better as a flat plain. What a terrible mess this river has left.” Instead, we stand in awe at the majestic erosion and think what a testament to God’s power. We are overcome by the beauty of what is left behind.
But even as we admire the beauty, the exposed rock walls continue to experience the exhausting chafing that carves the canyon ever deeper.
If you've visited the Grand Canyon, you know it isn't one solitary canyon, but a collection of many channels. And that is what has caught me off guard these last few months.
I am used to the grinding exhaustion of dealing with my own personal health issues. That river has been wearing me rugged for years. But I did not expect my children to receive their own chronic illness diagnoses. These last few months have been a surprise erruption of many new channels -- leaving me feeling raw and exposed.
My mother's heart is breaking in ways I never knew it could. I want to cry “NO FAIR! ONLY ONE BIG THING AT A TIME!” God, it’s too much.
But what a boring canyon that would make.