{Five Minute Friday} – Unknown

One word (ponder). 5 minutes (write).

 

 

Years ago, ten years to be exact, I left a life I was comfortable with, a life I knew full well. It wasn’t a good life. It wasn’t safe inside or out. I could leave. I had half a dozen times. The problem was that I wouldn’t stay gone. I couldn’t. Familiarity drew me back every time, that place of knowing and being known. But, one day things got out of hand, went way too far and something inside me gave way.

Something released.

Relinquished.

For the next few days I very subtly packed a few things. Very softly, very slowly I stashed important things in small boxes that I hid in the back of closets, the attic, under our bed. Soon my son arrived from two states away. While the man was still at work, we quickly stacked my things in the back of a truck, a friend of his standing by for good measure. And just that quick we left, my dog a diminishing figure in the rearview mirror.

My first year alone was excruciating. I loved him and wanted to go back. My heart did. My head knew better, what little rationale I’d managed to bring along. Still, the majority of me longed to be in a familiar place, to be settled in a life known and understood, a life comfortable for my own skin.

I craved the place I was “loved”, no matter how tumultuously.

A new friend came by, tucked my bent and broken body into her car and took me to a local Christian concert. In the midst of thousands of people, I’d never felt so alone and alienated in my life. I was the odd man out, the black sheep, the square in a sea of circles. As the drums beat and the singer belted out passionate notes of Godly love, I began to cry slow and stinging tears, an island unto myself.

In the lull of the harmony, I thought to myself, “Now I am alone. There’s no one to love me. Who will ever know me again?

Soft tears turned to weeping when a wave of warmth filled me from the inside out. It was like the embrace of a lover sneaking up behind you, their hands softly brushing across your back, around your sides, then clasping across your tummy as they tenderly draw you in.

In that moment my spirit filled with breath not my own, a single utterance,

I know”.

 

(Post edited for grammar, clarity and flow. Read more Five Minute Friday entries here.)

 

A page from my art journal.

 

14 thoughts on “{Five Minute Friday} – Unknown

  1. It’s strange how we cling to the familiar at times even when we know it is bad for us, rather than face the unknown. Thank you for sharing your story. It is such a comfort to know that we are fully known and loved by God. I love the song you shared!

    • Hi Lesley. Oh, if it weren’t for the everlasting hope of God, I don’t think I’d make it. His Hope and knowing us full well makes all the difference. You know, it is strange how we cling, yet it’s easier to keep close to the comfortable, even if in the dark. Such odd creatures we are.

  2. What a brave and challenging narrative. Like, wow.

    I can relate, in counterpoint. Terminal cancer’s placed me beyond the outer limits of ‘hard’, which makes survival easier but perhaps makes life harder.

    And so, a sonnet, composed especially for this post. I don’t know if it’s something to ‘like’, but I hope it at least rings true.

    No, you may not know me,
    and you may not see my heart.
    It’s I who chose the lonely,
    and I am set apart.
    No, you may not feel my pain,
    and I shall show no fear.
    The wetness on my face is rain;
    there’s not a single tear.
    Please, now, save the trembling smile,
    and I do not need a hug,
    for on this last cancer’d mile,
    I’m going out a thug.
    But I’ll ask this, if I might;
    can I bum a last cig and a light?

    #1 at FMF this week.

    https://blessed-are-the-pure-of-heart.blogspot.com/2019/11/your-dying-spouse-697-losses-fmf.html

    • Andrew- thank you for stopping by once again. Much thanks for your positive words, but even more for sharing your own raw and stirring words with me. It’s too bad we can’t just sit a silent spell and share a smoke.

  3. Thank you, sweet friend, for sharing from the broken and the unknown. As you knit your written words together, they point to our great Savior! What a blessing to know that while we grope around in the unknown, He is omniscient and always kind toward us.

    • Thanks for visiting, my friend. Yes, I sure do a lot of groping around at times. Most times. It is my only hope to know that I am known and fully loved despite my aimlessness. I long for others to know this great love as well. I’m so glad to know I’ve got another voice(s) shouting out with me!

  4. Really your thoughts are written with clarity and beauty. I am grieved for your pain but see the strength you are receiving from God. Thank you for being so brave to share.

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