"Thirty spokes meet at a hollowed-out hub;
the wheel won't work without its hole.
A vessel is moulded from solid clay;
its inner emptiness makes it useful.
To make a room, you have to cut doors and windows;
without openings, a place isn't livable.
To make use of what is here,
you must make use of what is not."
Throughout my life, I've tried to understand how to make use of the losses I experienced starting at such a young age. Still mystified much of the time, I always bristle when I hear, "God doesn't call the equipped; He equips the called."
"So what am I being equipped for?" I want to ask Him. "More losses?" By the end I will have so many holes punched in me as to render me useless. If I'm supposed to be a hub, I haven't found my wheel yet, my balance in the midst of chaos.
From my losses I have learned to look to the future with dread instead of hope. Slowly, painfully, I am doing everything I can to change that, but I fear it will be too little, too late.
I'm very good at grieving, after all. It's an odd thing to know how to do, but at least I understand it, almost like an old friend.
I suppose I will know when it's time to move on. Can I ever be ready for a new friend, a new life, a new balance?
the wheel won't work without its hole.
A vessel is moulded from solid clay;
its inner emptiness makes it useful.
To make a room, you have to cut doors and windows;
without openings, a place isn't livable.
To make use of what is here,
you must make use of what is not."
Throughout my life, I've tried to understand how to make use of the losses I experienced starting at such a young age. Still mystified much of the time, I always bristle when I hear, "God doesn't call the equipped; He equips the called."
"So what am I being equipped for?" I want to ask Him. "More losses?" By the end I will have so many holes punched in me as to render me useless. If I'm supposed to be a hub, I haven't found my wheel yet, my balance in the midst of chaos.
From my losses I have learned to look to the future with dread instead of hope. Slowly, painfully, I am doing everything I can to change that, but I fear it will be too little, too late.
I'm very good at grieving, after all. It's an odd thing to know how to do, but at least I understand it, almost like an old friend.
I suppose I will know when it's time to move on. Can I ever be ready for a new friend, a new life, a new balance?
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