Yesterday I realized when my internal dialogue is confused and jumbled, it’s impossible for me to write anything here. I can’t string my thoughts together into a narrative that makes sense to me, so doing that with words? Not happening.
My mind is a bumper car track of this:
Brad is suffering.
God loves us.
Brad’s knee is so swollen it won’t bend.
God is compassionate.
But Brad is really sick.
There is a point and purpose.
Even this will become beautiful.
Words. Words. Words.
Please don’t think I’m spending all my moments really sad. I’m sad, but I’m not hopeless. I just don’t understand it all just yet. I’m not sure why, but something tells me it’s valuable to come here and say that at least as often as I come here to say I’ve figured something out.
Sending you both lots of good thoughts.
Oh, Babycakes, as sad as this all is, it needs to be said and remembered. You and Brad are ever in our prayers.
I’m glad you say the truth. I’m glad you let us in so we can pray for you. I love you.