Old Dawn

Here is the monthly “I’m not dead” update. Since I last wrote I have been rather sick again, with too many various ailments to list. So yay, I’m still alive; boo, I’m sick again.

I came to the terrible realization that, as of this year, and around this general time, I have officially been unwell for over half my life. Depressing doesn’t quite cover that discovery. Each day brings an old dawn and a new twilight; the sun is well-known but each shade new to the day, and as soon as one is drowned by, in, a river of sunbeams, a new specter takes its place, torturing me anew with its nascent dusk. Perhaps the only comfort I have found, and find arisen each moment, is that the light of this old dawn shall never cease to flow and quench the darkness. Hope, God’s hope, shall never run dry.

But in truth, I am starting to lose the hope that the endless swarms of these shadows will cease, that I would know, at least for a time, only luminescence. To lose hope that health, and the ability to continue to live as I hope to live, is an illusion which allures my eyes with smoky promises that dissipate at my grasp. Lose hope that my life will ever have meaning and purpose and value.

Death is not so near a frightening prospect.

The thing you lose most is fear. Fear of death. What does death have to offer but enduring respite from suffering, permanent sanctuary from pain? No, death holds no terror, though it never has and never will. Life holds greater dread for the ill and dying than the reaper’s blade.

Why then do we cling to life? What is it that pushes us to continue to swing at the air, to drag our deteriorating bodies after a panacea when stopping would be simpler, easier, gentler? Hope. Faith. Love.

Death is not so frightening as not living, as not being with those we love for a single moment, as not being able to feel the apexes and nadirs of joy and sorrow, as not being surrounded by this world beyond the grasp of the most curious of minds. My God there is so much beauty to touch and emotions to feel and stories to hear and tell and music to play and hear and love to share. Only in the depths of dole and distress can we find that life has so much more value than selfies and Facebook posts. We find value outside ourselves, in God most and in the people and world He has made.

I am tired. I am worn and beaten and thrashed from a life of near-constant struggle. But I will never stop fighting for the chance to touch the hem of a life unbound. God has given me another day and, until that is not so, I will skin my fingers clawing forward to love and live.


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