It was a night of tumors, broken relationships, lost jobs, and loneliness. A night of sharp words cutting people off at the knees. I hadn’t even read about that day’s ISIS exploits, burning churches, or anonymous children washing ashore—just the workaday grief in my messages and newsfeed.
I have an eating disorder.
I’m so lonely I can’t sleep.
Will I ever get a paycheck again?
By the grace of God, I wasn’t one of the lamenters, but I was a friend to all, knowing “grace” only lasts until I’m next.
I fluffed my pillow and put down the phone, and my husband turned out the light. He slept, and I lay there, guilty again of filling my head with all that is flashing and grim.
I should never have left her.
My father won’t speak to me.
I have news too scary to share.
Then something pinged off my forehead. [Read more…]