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It’s like the tide.  It ebbs and flows.  Recedes and swells.  As with the natural cycle of life, hopelessness seems to have a regular place in the time and space of a survivor’s life. 

High tides wash in, slamming the shore with blessings and sweet friendship. All you can do is stand on a high point and take in the majesty of God’s goodness.

But, then, almost as suddenly as the waters rose, they shrink back out into that cold, dark depth of seeming nothingness.  And, that’s how you feel.  Like nothing. You stand on the low point with the ground beneath you being pulled out.  You stare at the debris now revealed and realize it had still been there all along. It had just been temporarily hidden by the fleeting high tide. 

With trembling, weak hands you cling to the wet, slimy stones and fight to climb back up. “Look how far you’ve come!”  “Yes, but, you had so much to overcome.”  “At least you’re not living with him!”  “Are you sure that’s really how it was?  I only hear these stories from you.”  Empty words of bullshit ‘comfort’ echo off the rocks.  Easy for the ones to say who live in the glass houses perched upon the highest rocks.  There they are and perhaps always have been protected from the raging seas below. 

If I let the water pull me out with the sand and floating seaweed, would they blame me for my lack of strength? 

I stoop to pick up the garbage scattered along the barren shoreline and place it in my bag.  A broken piece of glass pierces my flesh.  As I watch the blood trickle down my finger it dawns on me….. they want me to stay down here.  They can’t be above if there’s no one below.

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