Loud whispers and bloody hands
- Bailey
- Feb 8, 2015
- 1 min read
Feet dangling off the dock, we listened quiet to the wind. The trust and love and comfort between our years of friendship whispered louder than words.
Jesus was there. He knows.
We grip tight these last months. Fierce, white-knuckled, bloody grasps on not the past but the now. These moments rooted in the past. Grown beautifully strong and immeasurably deep.
Our hearts scream resistance and simultaneously long for new. Inevitability is the elephant in the room. In every room from now until that last goodbye.
We love to love each other, and we’ve fallen into the comfortable embrace of limiting ourselves. That embrace will be forced apart and our ways of loving will be stretched thin.
But muscles grow when they are torn and pushed to their limits.
In the meantime, side by side we’ll sit, feet dangling over the water, fully engaged in and thankful for this part of the adventure He’s written for us.
