Lent and lament collide. After almost six years of striving to survive storm after storm, I have entered into a season of relative calm; my footing does not shift. I’m limp...I’m depleted... I’m grieving on a whole new level. The end of fight or flight creates space to feel again...and it hurts...really, really hurts!
I’m deeply aware I will grieve for the rest of my life and most of that journey will feel lonely. I will not get over deep love, even as its resulting grief will transform me. If I’m most fortunate, others, not offended by the awkwardness of it all, will remain traveling companions when time allows. But my bones know this is mostly solo. 
I don’t formula write on this Monday morning, no hopeful application. 
Just lament.