You've been on my mind lately. Maybe it's because it's been ten years since I was you. Maybe it's because I'm just a few months away from 30. Maybe it's because it's January and all of the new year reflecting is getting to me. Whatever the reason, you keep coming to mind, and it feels important to sit with you for a moment.
It's dark here.
It's really growing now—the anxiety and panic.
My heart is heavy seeing you here, even heavier knowing there's still the worst to come.
I know that words are only so helpful right now.
So many people around you have so many words for you.
I have words for you too. Words of truth. Words of hope.
But it's not time for those yet.
So right now, I'm showing up.
Holding a gentle light of hope into this darkness.
A hope that is rooted in reality: 29-year-old Katy exists.
It's difficult right now. It's so very difficult. It will become almost unbearable.
And you make it. You're still here.
I want to leave you with one more thing.
A poem, specifically.
I know you might not be ready to receive these words just yet.
But you will be.
And I'm already filled with joyful anticipation for the moment you are.
Love (III) by George Herbert
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
Source: George Herbert and the Seventeenth-Century Religious Poets (W. W. Norton and Company, 1978).
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| a good day, 2009 |
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