The email

I freeze and begin to come apart, grasping for anything to keep me together, I find nothing within arms length. So I start to fall, tumbling, splintering, splitting apart at every seam. I hit the ground hard, and the impact ripples through my now disjointed self, like a vase off of a shelf I have hit the floor and now fragments of my mind are covering the carpet. This whole occurrence takes place without a noise, but with a flash of white light, I'm back together. I find I’m intact. Everything is just as it was... my body is still, fingers poised over the keyboard, and my eyes reading the words in the email. I hesitantly glance up to see if anyone else in the room has noticed what just happened, that the world just changed. Nobody has flinched. I attempt to gather my emotions, to string together syllables with the capacity to explain the chaos in my heart, but nothing resembling coherence comes. I am alone here. I send off text messages to those who would know, but silence sings their reply. No solace will awake for eight more hours, for you see my world is still asleep. And so I want to call out, to speak up, or to break down, but no one would understand, and no words could give it justice. So I just sit here wondering what is holding me together. The curse words can't come, there is no guitar in sight, nothing to hit, and nowhere to run. I am stuck yet I know I am ok, for in some way I am still together. It doesn't make sense. I'd rather have fallen apart and had tears, my music, or a knowing hug rather than this odd composure, birthed from sudden, complete numbness. I tell everyone the basics of what has transposed, laugh at something insincere, and then prepare my escape. After an acceptable time has lapsed, just long enough to elude serious looks or questions, I get up slowly. I settle the shaking, and walk out of the room.
An hour later and I still haven't done anything at all, just walked around and had shallow interactions. Strangely, that weird binding agent, the mysteriously thing that held me together is increasing in intensity. Slowly rising forth to the surface of my consciousness, it annoys me, yet it grows in strength. I finally admit that I know what it is: the peace that Jesus Christ graciously gives. However, I don’t want it, I fight it, but its keeps covering me. Like one might fight a giant hug when they need it the most, or refuse medicine because that would mean they were sick, I throw up my arms in protest. My ineffective resistance is smothered, for I was already enveloped in His arms. I protest that this isn’t the kind of release I wanted, it doesn’t take away my pain, it only assures me that it is and will be ok. I find I am enabled to embrace the brokenness without fear or hesitation, for I know He will hold me together. Somehow, I will not be moved. The whole experience transcends understanding, as I am both overwhelmed by emotion, and calm in the simple acknowledgment that yes, yes, my GOD is holding me.

glory to the One I could never give sufficient praise to,
drew