[A Restless Heart] Sense

Sometimes, the sensible things don’t make sense. And sometimes heart things don’t make sense. And when the two meet, with neither making sense, sometimes all you can do is pray about the figuring out of the things you can’t bury, and trust the love that surrounds and enfolds you, broken.

So much time has passed, and I’ve lost so much of it to the brain fog and the depression, and I wake up nineteen instead of twenty-nine sometimes. I’m still composing mental thank-you notes almost six years after my wedding, still hoping to hold my first baby closer than I have – and now I have two babies. I forgot who I was, and found me in God, who seems to be quite literally giving me my desires back – maybe not to fulfill them, but to let me know I am still capable of desiring, instead of living in the cautious netherworld I chose to be safe.

I’ve never been one to choose blind faith – and faith that can’t hold up to questioning really isn’t very strong anyway. But sometimes the questions overwhelm, and making sense out of the things that don’t make sense is an impossible task, and then I choose the only simple thing I know, the simplest thing, the deepest thing – and that is Jesus.

If I know nothing else at all, I know this – that His death and resurrection is what makes the difference for me, between the right and the wrong, the known and the unknown. Jesus covering me is the only thing that makes me different from the girl who doesn’t know God, because I am still human, and I still feel all the things Eve can feel – with or without God. It is Jesus who makes me safe; in the confusion, sometimes He is the only thing that is clear, and that really is enough.