And then she flew away…
Less than a handful of days ago, a little conversation happened that gave me this fuzzy embryonic white star of promise. Kinda like a sip of cool clear water after a long, dry, barren sojourn in a desolate land. Now I have never hiked in a desert, in fact, I live in a country of soulish, wild beauty. However, I do know about living in the great chilly expanse of a dream deferred and this Lilliputian possibility generated a sense of joy…you know the kind when you think some serious, long-standing juggernaut just might vaporize, like the walls of Jericho.
But that is not what happened. Hope was a one night stand. We are back to this journey driven in the night, only seeing as far ahead as the lights from the high beams fall.
And this morning, I just want to say, “Really, God?”
And I want to say, “Shit” and a whole lot of other explicatives, because you know what?, I am not hardening my heart to the possibility of miracles, but just this time, after this long uphill ascent, I was vulnerable to the wanting-it-so-much-to-change thing. And this place in my chest hurts. It’s not physical. It’s that place where the little girl lives who is still waiting for her Christmas present to come.