The sweet in the bitter

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Things feel crumpled.  Like blankets at the foot of an unmade bed.  I hide behind silence or fluffy conversation.  The light in the bedroom is dim, the sounds outside muffled through locked windows.  Feeling strange.  Like a stranger.  Unknown and known all at once.  I talk in riddles because I am an inside joke.  My words hide a thousand feelings that no one can navigate. 

I'm thinking of all those times I wasn't sure how I was going to get through. You know, when everything seems to hinge on one decision or event and you're not really certain which way it will tip. Crying out, I give words to what's hidden in the darkest part of my soul. Those are the nights when I grew the most.  In the not knowing. When I got to the end of my finite self and His peace came floating in over me. Covering all of my bruises with a hush. I wave the white flag, surrendering to the bliss of being held. 

His peace is beautifully reassuring and I'm not certain I'd experience it the same way had I not felt such anguish to begin with. I'm not saying I like the turmoil, but I am saying I think I can appreciate the peace more when it comes at the tail end of the other.  It's the sweet in the bitter.

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