It is the shell that disturbs me.
The emptiness that mocks me.
It once contained my dreams. My hopes.
It held laughter and tears.
Was filled with longings deep.
Now it is shambles, mocking.
How do you hold a life that is now dust in your hands?
How do you grip that which has slipped through?
How do you capture what has escaped?
Forgotten dreams. Crushed hopes.
Today, it doesn't feel like enough that He remains.
That doesn't fill in the gaps left by loss.
Today, memories are flaunted by the barrenness.
Hurt reigns, echoing in the shell.
I long to sift through the dust, seeking a miracle.
To glimpse truth.
To shelter under arms of comfort.
I long to glimpse, even a fragment, of what was.
And here , tucked under forgotten words, I find it:
“The Lord was with Joseph... the Lord was with him... the Lord was with him.”
In the midst of Joseph's emptiness, God was with him.
When his life was dust, the Lord was with him.
Even when shambles mocked, the Lord was with him.
The Lord was.
The Lord is.
The shell runs smack into the Eternal and is filled.
Compared to Him, what is a house or dreams.
Here is how I capture.
Cling to Him.
Cling to Eternal.