This is a season of the heart.
Pain and grief arrive each day, carrying their own weight, reshaping the hours, shaping me.
I am in it fully.
That’s what it feels like, but that doesn’t mean that’s what it is. It’s NOT a bad thing. It’s a necessary thing.
The longer I walk through it, the more I know there is no “getting over it.”
What is happening is change. What is happening is revelation – of who I have been, who I am, and how I belong to God and to the wider human family.
And most notably, how I relationship with another in love.
To be broken open is also to be made whole. All of my contents have spilled out.
For much of my adult life, especially since being a single Father with 50% custody (and 100% Dad), fear has held me back.
I clung when it was time to release. I drifted into sleep when I was being asked to wake.
Then real, authentic love broke me open.
Beautiful. Messy. A beautiful mess.
Now I find myself ready. More loving, more willing to be loved. My heart has stretched and grown.
Every crack is now an opening where life pours in. Not something I seal over.
Because of that, I have not been trapped by grievances. There are none. Nobody has hurt me. Lady is not responsible for this breaking open.
It just had to be this way.
And so I have leaned into the tender place.
Thankfully, each of my steps have landed, as they always have. I’m on my own two feet. In that, another layer of resilience has formed.
A Japanese proverb has stayed with me: “fall down seven times, stand up eight.”
I recognize a rhythm in this.
Falling, rising.
Emptying, filling.
Losing, finding.
This rhythm is the essence of life.
This is what being broken open is to me.
Remade. Transformed.
Standing. Strong.
Grateful. Walking with God.