The Road Out

Smell the smoke? I've made it out alive. I was carried most of the way, I have to admit.

The road out was beautiful. There was a majestic storm. The sky cracked open a few times and God yelled right along with me about my pain. Then he used a preacher to tell me some pretty amazing stuff. (Check out Romans 8) I cried and cried and cried. I tried to be quiet but it didn't work too good. I suppose when God of the Universe is making collossal adjustments inside you there should be some sound.

Then there were friends. Family, really. And the storm gave way to sun and breeze and food and laughter. Deep, shuddering breath. A corner has been rounded.

There will be aftershocks, I'm sure. But I've taken an honest look at the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I've listed every subsequent "ripple effect" that I now cope with. It's all out there. My counselor will be proud.

Healing is hard. The hike to hell was exhausting. But the scenery on the way back was unforgettable. I'm still here. And I'm still me. Only a little stronger, a little smarter, and a little closer to whole.