Slowly picking up the pieces

When all your dreams are snatched, when there's no one to blame and nothing to forgive, when there is no answer to the question 'Why?', when it hurts so much you wish you would stop breathing, when getting out of bed to start the day is impossible - that's when breaking up is hard to do.

On Saturday, I met a lady called Lily F. I'd met her husband and her in church a couple of years ago. She told me he died last year. And then she cried.

Last night, on mum's encouragement, I went for BSF. The class was at St James Clerkenwell. The study was on Genesis 24. "Without saying a word, the man watched her closely to learn whether or not the LORD had made his journey successful." (v.21) It was the verse we had prayed over before we started dating. That was over two years ago.

Steak frites is excellent at The Well, medium rare, with a glass of Australian Cabernet Merlot and BSF notes.

Tomorrow morning, dad is going to wake me up. Then I'm going to start a new day. I may not be able to control what goes on inside my heart, but there's sure a lot else that I can.