Raise my hands,
Paint my spirit gold,
Bow my head,
Keep my hearts slow,
Cause I will wait, I will will for you.
Mumford and Sons "Nothing is Written"
"I meant to write about death, only life came breaking through." (Virginia Woolf)
"Can you think of your experience as an Exodus story? Last fall and winter, you were broken and tired, but you came through on the other side as a new creation." That's what I heard in counseling...a new creation, well, huh. If you want the truth, I simultaneously like this idea and am terrified by thought of it. Oh, its not that I think I am losing the old Jennifer. No, she still exists. She loves the same people. Wants the same things. Dreams the same dreams. That Jennifer is still here. She's just getting saner. No, what scares me is the hope that comes with believing. Believing that the darkness has past. Believing I won't end up hurt again. Believing something amazing might happen. Believing leads to hoping and hoping is oh so dangerous, my Darlings. Hope makes you bet against the odds. Hope tells you to hold on when common sense says let go. Hope might break your heart. Yet, despite all the risks, I keep hoping, praying, and waiting. Maybe this IS an Exodus story. Maybe my Promise Land is closer than I think...so Bow my head, keep my heart slow, because I will wait for you."