Hard Winter

So far it’s been a hard winter. Never mind the temperature outside, that’s not what I mean by “hard winter.” Something within me rages, something akin to anger. At night I lay me down feeling bruised and beaten, though no unkind hand has wounded me. My bones ache, my head aches, my feet ache. Fighting on my system’s emotional battlefield wearies me. At night I am dead tired, with racing brain.

I am wrestling with things unseen by the human eye. I wrestle with restlessness and loneliness and a myriad of emotions flitting to the surface long enough for their discomfort to be felt. Whose emotions are these, plaguing me come nightfall when I am least able to deal with them, exhausted and disheartened as I am from a day of trying to keep on an even keel?

Oh, the wintertime landscape of my soul needs to lie fallow, to take its ease. Not all within is a wasteland; there is land cultivated by the vicissitudes of life, land which needs to lie idle for a growing season. Must I be perpetually scanning my inner landscape for signs of growth, for signs of a good crop? Would it be so awful to let go of my constant vigilance, would it make me a bad servant of what has been entrusted to me if I were to do so?

With these things and more I wrestle nightly, daily, hourly. My eyes are quick to notice a stray weed here, signs of new growth there. I do my best to tend to my crop, tears mingling with the soil as I work the land. My hands are calloused, throat parched, shoulders permanently bent from stooping in the heat of the day or from bracing myself against unforgiving winter winds.

It is enough, perhaps. Have I done all that I could? My mind reels with this unanswerable question. I’m tired to the bone, too tired to so much as clench my teeth, or my dirt stained hands into fists. Let the world revolve without me tonight. Let my sleep be dreamless and pure, like the sleep of the righteous. Or at the very least, let me sleep unmolested by emotions of which I want no part.



3 thoughts on “Hard Winter

  1. we wish you a peaceful nights rest and a period of freedom from this emotional upheaval. We understand how you feel, been there done that, will feel it again and do it again no doubt.

    thinking of you

    keepers and john

  2. Today when I was outside I saw perfect green grass growing right in the middle of brown, water logged grass that has been trampled down. It surprises me every time I see something like this, something like one blade of grass standing tall in the middle of things fallen and withered. I find it inspiring to see them press upward despite what is around them but you know they must be disheartened to see so many blades that were too logged, too winter worn to stand up. We know how it feels to be trampled or too tired to stand.

    we wish you peace of mind

  3. your struggles sound so very much like mine. the rage, the emotional darts from all directions that i cant seem to dodge, the pressure to tend the garden. it seems no matter what im doing, i feel like i should be doing something else. something more important.

    im thinking its high time to give the garden to God. let Him tend it, while i tend to Him.

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