Pax

I usually have a title before I start blogging, but I cannot come up with anything tonight. All I can think of is “pax,” and somehow, that seems lame.

Life has been full of melons of late (and now you see why dyslexia is so much fun: You can write a sentence thinking it makes perfect sense, only to read it a few moments later and realize that nobody else {except maybe your dyslexic elder sister} understood that you meant lemons, not melons). Oh, it is not bad–certainly not! I love my life. I love my job (yes, even when I am frustrated). I love my friends (and I love that God has surrounded me with friends new and old). I love my family (y’all are insane, and I’m so glad I belong with you). I love my cats (even as I lay here in bed, trying to contort my body around them because they refuse to move). I love my lips (USTA!). I love my piano (and I swear if I hear once more how out of tune my Shelton is, I’m gonna go ape on someone). I love my guitar (my secret confidant these past ten years).

But folks…life is hard. I am exhausted. And I would be lying to you if I said I am okay. I’m not. I will be, but I’m not. June is always a struggle of a month for me, and this year, it seems, my sorrows spilled right on over the edge into July. So between struggles and grief, tensions and misunderstandings, stress and overextension at work…suddenly I am dealing with awful dreams.

Again.

It’s been ages since I’ve had these terrible, graphic, violent dreams, and I have to tell you, I did not miss them. Not one bit. Two nights ago, a girl in my dream was beheaded. It was absolutely horrific. It was absolutely vivid. I won’t say more, except that it left a heavy impression on my mind and my senses.

The real horror of it is not even that I would have such a dream; rather, it is the gentle word of God’s Spirit speaking to me when I wake, reminding me that what I saw in my dream, other people around the world have seen with their waking eyes. If we are ignorant of the violence that still exists in this life, we are fools to be sure.

Still, I cannot deny that these dreams unnerve me. They leave me feeling spiritually and emotionally vulnerable somehow. And do they effect my sleep habits? My work? My relationships? Absolutely.

And to all of this, an Auntie’s heart was broken into a thousand thousand pieces this week, as my brother and his wife miscarried my newest niece (they weren’t far enough along to confirm that it was a girl, but in my dream–it was a girl, so in my heart, she will always be my niece). Many of you have heard me say it before: There is nothing in this life I love more than being an Auntie. And to know that my brother and his family are grieving so far away from me…that I can’t hug them and cry with them and cuddle JB until she is all cuddled out…it is heartbreak upon heartbreak.

Maybe it was an adequate title after all.

Pax.

Goodnight, friends.

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