psalm 91.
The end of the year is always a mixed bag for me, but I have learnt to be content knowing that I am getting closer to where I need to be. Our bodies often remember things our minds would rather forget, and it’s perhaps the nature of this, that I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on the spaces I have once been, but no longer inhabit.
I’ve learnt to take everything in stride, and embrace the wilderness of the unknown, in a trust and hope that perhaps may seem a little foolhardy. Psalm 91 has always been an anchor for me to keep and hold close to heart, whenever and if ever, I begin to feel the earth move from under me. It was something I chose to frame my year from the very beginning, before the restrictions hit, and before a pandemic put many of us in protracted periods of isolation. It has been the backbone to some of my hardest experiences in grief, and has helped me stay on the right and ready side of it.
“…He’s the hope that holds me and the Stronghold to shelter me, the only God for me, and my great confidence…”
- Psalm 91:2 (TPT)
He has always been my great confidence. The assurance I took to heart, when I choose to continue - with living, after holding heavy after heavy, and for hope that endures through many multiple storms; a reminder that a love created and formed through darkness, is a love that endures to no end.
Lately, I’ve been struggling with the negative space that I have carved out from a prompting that I need to shift towards carrying less than I usually do, in anticipation towards something that requires a greater level of intentionality and heart; a reconnection to things I had long forgotten in and amidst the constant doing.
I recall this time last year, how a series of circumstances practically left me hanging on for dear life, as the precarious balance of things I had juggled to perfection, collapsed at a quiet breath of something unanticipated. A year later, I find myself once more in déjà vu, not knowing where the coming January will bring me, yet my collective peace has grown, as the familiar embrace of uncertainty and the unknown brings with it greater hope for all that is to come.
The paper has been pressed and the chords have been extrapolated. As the year draws gingerly to a close, may the melody for what is to come, bring with it new divine stories to tell. May the space I have created remain still and empty, until His perfect and most opportune time fills it with the fragrance of the next new song.