Still.

I’m still here.

Still breathing after a year where I spent the better part trying to actively eliminate my breath.

I’m still working on me.  A new path after so much self-destructive behavior.  Still wanting to be here.  Something that I didn’t have before November 19th, 2020.

I’m still growing into what I believe God wants me to be.  A force for good?  A better man?  Or just a servant who is trying to listen and do that ‘next right thing’.

I need to learn how to be still.  To sit in the moment and to embrace the silence.  To quiet all the outer and inner voices in my head and to commune with the holy presence that I call God.

I still love her.

I still have hope there.  Though that’s not my focus.  I’ve had to let her be part of the outer fabric of my days.  Still present, but something I can’t hold onto.  Letting God take her and comfort and protect her.

I’m still human.  And last night I felt the desire to numb myself with a substance.  I didn’t, but I did make the call, send the text to keep myself from going back down the dark road alcohol had placed me on.  I’m still sober.

I still pray.  Actually more each day than I ever have.  But not just my typical selfish prayers.  I’m praying for others – seeking guidance and protection for those I care about and for this path.

Still hurting.  Mom, Annie, Topher, loss, circumstance.  They still sting.

Still, I meditate.  I become more and more aware that this IS the hero’s journey.  I am still aware of all that brought me here, and it keeps me grounded in the fight.  But it’s a fight that has no weapons.  No anger.  No bitter gall.  It is a fight to understand and to let go.

Still.

"Be Still and know that I am God..."
Psalm 46:10

~ Peace

Chad