Nomad

    I was in the middle of writing an entirely different blog post, but something happened today that has completely sidetracked my thoughts.

My aunt Patsy’s husband, my sweet uncle Don, graduated to Eternity. He’s one of the most joyful and gentle souls I’ve ever known. And while we’re so very happy for him that he is breathing the air of a place that is free of pain and heartache, we are left here to sort out the pieces.

Shortly after my mom passed away in 2011, I went through a couple of months of depression. I’ve always written songs as a way of ordering my thoughts, so in that season’s deepest night, I wrote one called “Nomad”.

      Broken and aching and wounded and weary
     Falling and failing and fighting and torn
     Crawling on my knees to get where I’m going
     And I’m not even sure where that is anymore

     The sun sank too early and day turned to night
     I can’t understand it, Lord knows I’ve tried
     Now I’m a nomad looking for home
     I’m not even sure where that is anymore

     You say my darkness is daylight to you
     So find me and hold onto my hand

     Every goodbye makes it harder to breathe
     But you never promised my days would be easy
     Time keeps on moving, I’m just hanging on
     But I’m not even sure who I am anymore

     You say you knew me before I was born
     And you smile and you sing over me

     I try to believe that but trying makes me tired
     So I guess that I just need to be
     Be still
     Be still
     Be still and know you are God

     The sun sank too early and day turned to night
     I can’t understand it, can’t even try
     Now I’m a nomad looking for home
     But you’ve been here before
     You’ve been here before

Please pray with me for my aunt, for my cousins, for my grandfather who was close to his son-in-law… for all of us who look forward to hearing Don’s belly laugh, strong and free, when we’re all together again.

Jesus, too, is acquainted with grief.

    He’s been here before.