People rise in different ways.
Some adapt and overcome, easily swimming the seas of adversity.
Rapidly scaling walls and hurling themselves over.
They rise quickly and rapidly. Rarely leaving behind witnesses to their pain.
But this is not how I rise…I rise much differently.
The currents always seem to take me under.
Sucking me into their locked sacred catacombs for a bit before deciding I don’t belong there and spitting me out.
I don’t climb walls rapidly.
Rather I sit for a while and ponder why they exist.
I like to stay for a bit in seasons of adversity.
It’s here I learn to sit and linger amongst those who have yet to figure out why the dirty exists.
I rise differently.
And it’s not a bad thing.
It’s just who I am and how God made me.
To struggle amidst the dark abyss of suffering.
To lay down in it’s silence – because to me – it means something.
It’s crucial. Painful. It’s process.
So I may rise and I may fall.
I may get sucked under and I may simply exist.
But there is a deep inexplicable value in that existence.
I’m okay with learning to sit.