Oh to feel uncertain, what a remarkable gift, a gift no one wants, but an inevitable gift you receive nonetheless.
It is a season everyone must pass through.
It leaves room for faith; it’ll be the will of God.
It lingers like an itch that cannot be scratched.
It guides us down a zigzag road of powerlessness.
It is wanting to go to sleep, but doubt overtakes you and all you feel is the bottom and pressure of everything.
Uncertainty moves around like a fog. It makes all things invisible, then suddenly visible — like a big cow directly on your path — at the same time. You don’t think clearly, you don’t see clearly.
Uncertainty is seeing a gray fin slice across the water, but you don’t know if it’s a shark or a dolphin, all you know is that it’s approaching you. What is it? you ask. The fin goes beneath the surface. You have to swim, get out of the water. The ocean is a slaughterhouse for humans. You panic. You worry. You can almost feel it, your insides being ripped apart, quickly becoming a 15-foot great white shark’s tasty morning snack. You’ll never be heard from again. It’s your worst nightmare. But then suddenly…nothing happens. The water turns calm and quiet.
Where did it go? you wonder. What was it, and why it was here. But, you don’t have a clue.
All you know now is that there is no certainty, except for the certainty of death. Everything else is subject to change, grow, leave, or transform.
Copyright © 2014 Elisa Marie Hopkins. All rights reserved.