01/07/2021
It won’t be your turn
When you have envisioned, believed, moved through the battle. The crayon drawn door you drew on an 8x11 sheet of light brown recycled paper you knew would one day become real. Why would you not believe otherwise, are faced with, “It won’t be your turn.” The drawing you knew that was not real, Yet. It wasn’t suppose to remain the drawing. I prayed, I believed, I received, This is not happening.
Remember, a picture in crayon on brown recycled paper. I need time to process. Years of my, Yet, now having to accept, it’s just a picture.
I’m going to need to look at it, then walk away, then go back and look at it, and walk away and then come look at it and walk away. I have heard a thousand times, in my head and out of other peoples mouths, “time heals all wounds,” “You just need time to heal.”
Can I tell you, the words that are spoken to you in private, in the quite places that give you a sense of morbid peace, to others that may never know, “It won’t be your turn.”
Healing is an undercurrent. It will never stop as long as you live. You may coast on the top of the water, stay in the shallow waters for a long time, but when you dare to go deeper, it’s there. You will need to go there time to time. The most beautiful pictures are taken from the valleys, canyons, waters deep looking up.
As for the picture, I don’t know what I want to do with it. I may burn it, may tear it up. I may tuck it away and hope moths or rats get to it. All I know is right now, I just need to see it.
People ask, “What can I do to help?”
Let me keep my picture, stop trying to analyze and critique it. It’s years of my, Yet, remaining a drawing.
There are people that will have the privilege to be there when it’s time to put to rest the picture. I won’t be surprised, nor do those closest to me need to take it personal if it ends up being whoever I don’t expect it to be, but neither where the kids that I sat at a lunch room table with when a teacher said, “Let’s draw a picture.”