When we tell stories that start with a sudden beginning and jump to an ending that only God could write, we skip over a crucial part of the story: the middle.
The place where we wait.
Where we sit in silence.
Where we have no answers.
Where our hearts ache and we can’t sleep and we wonder if we’ll ever feel whole again.
It’s there, in the middle, that God’s soft and subtle grace sustains us. Where Love gives us strength to breathe in, and breathe out, and then do it all again.
Where Mercy wakes us up every morning and whispers, “Try again.” Where Hope beats in our chest, even as our heart is aching more than we can say.