A few weeks ago I found myself saying that I thought maybe I felt some solid ground under my feet. Maybe I had drifted closer to shore after months of bobbing in waves of unknown depth.
As I thought about that today I do feel like a shift is happening. Like the beginning of learning to walk on solid land again. And my legs do not know how to hold me up after this season at sea. The ground seems mired in sticky clay as I try to take some steps on this uncharted shore. Each step is a painful reminder that I am in a new land.
There seem to be no trails here. Floating with the current suddenly seems easy compared to this. Bushwhacking is exhausting business, but everywhere I look both physically and emotionally it is my job to move in unfamiliar ways.
I do not feel equal to the task, but there seems to be no alternative. I must walk. I must keep doing the hard things and facing reality. Scott would often remind me that “reality is our friend.” It feels anything but friendly.