All Will Be Well and All Manner of Things Shall Be Well

Saturday, August 22, 2015

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It's late - far past midnight, and I'm reading blog posts about life + hardness and listening to gentle soundtracks with notes falling like golden drops of kindness, notes that soften the harshness of reality and remind me that maybe maybe there is still hope.



All of the above is happening because like every month in college, I'm learning, change has sprung upon me in a matter of moments - before the first week of school has even happened - and I'm being reminded of and being forced to swallow the bitter pill of change that feels like brokenness, the one I've become all too familiar with. 

But this is college. This is life. This is my reality on this green earth. Being broken open time and time again, feeling the swell of loneliness and disquieting solitude rising beneath my skin. Oh, pain - again. 

It slips in like an old friend, and it and I are so well acquainted that I'm no longer surprised to see it...rather, more of a "ah, I didn't realize you'd be here too. You were just over there last month." She shows up frequently and in new places, despite running into her recently. 

She's a herald of change, that Pain. Always offers a half smile as if to say Yeah, I know. Me again. I know you weren't expecting me, but really, we should talk - it's going to be good for you in the long run. It always is and we both know it.

If I'm being honest, it's why I haven't blogged lately. I felt too all over the place with post ideas during the summer and now words don't seem to want to come. And sometimes you don't want a perfectly composed post...sometimes you just want to read something raw and real and honest. 

Or at least I do. I call them "real" posts, posts about life and the restless murmur of its fragility and confusion and depth. Posts about shadows and doubt, about the haunting ache of love, and the quiet whisper of loss. 

I've learned a great these past few years and months. And I know I only have more to learn - that life will continue throwing curveballs, that I will continuously be broken again and again and have to rebuild myself.

So far, I know selfness is a fluid concept, that God can feel as far away as the other side of the universe and yet as near as in your room at the same time, that the ones you dream of are the ones you either miss or fear, that loneliness is not a one-time thing, that you will always feel young and scared to some degree no matter how experienced and old you become, that someone can listen to the truth you speak and not hear what you are actually saying, and that people change. 

Sometimes not always for the better.

That's the hardest, I think. 

Change is many things, but it feels most like a river. Like water gently trickling in calm streams that cannot be held back by any force. At times calm and steady, at others rising in rushing eddies - streaming faster and harder, the current a little more forceful. Still other times, it is an ocean in a river bed, roaring and rushing in waves that knock you under with choking coldness and tumultuous force that prevents you from resurfacing no matter how hard you try. 


Sometimes you finally claw and kick your way to the surface, gasping for air, and look around in sudden startlement and flickering despair because suddenly you are not where you were minutes ago. Your surroundings are different, unfamiliar, perhaps even harsh and foreboding.


And in moments, everything has changed.

Sometimes, I think, it's for the best that we can't control change, that we are inevitably swept up in it and carried away, further down the path we are meant to be. We have a tendency to hold on, you see. To cling, with tightly gripped fingers to places and people and things that we wish to remain the same. We refuse to leave, to move on, to say goodbye.

Most of us don't know how to let go. 

And we keep clinging to our little islands, the rocks in the middle of the river - isolated from shore and new adventures further down the river. But eventually...we get pulled away and what we've been clinging to slips out of our fingers. And everything changes.

It doesn't matter if  you do or don't know how to let go. Sooner or later, you're forced to.

And we look around us after resurfacing, realizing that we are somewhere different. And it's for the best. Change, painful as it may be at times, is always for the best. It might not feel like it at the time. But it usually is, and years later, you look back and see that it always was.

It doesn't matter what the river is like right now...eventually all shall be well and all manners of things shall be well.

3 comments:

  1. Something I totally need to remember. Moving in and all the change of going back to college is hard.

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  2. The way that you have with words, Grace, makes me /feel/. Your words make me see something in the world that I didn't see before but I knew was there all along, so thank you. Thank you for being real and showing that change can be good even if it's hard.

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