Hope deferred and sick at heart

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life, so the Bible says and my heart echos that it is so.

I am too tired to cry much anymore though when I risk the venture of checking in with my heart, the tears stand ready to fall. I've been crying for a year. I don't have the time to recover from the outpouring anymore so I end up living very close to the surface for the sake of survival. My baby Belle needs the little energy I have and it is for for her, sometimes exclusively, that I keep on.

Apart from the charity of friends and family, we have truly been homeless for nearing a year. During which time, our little baby was born two months early, weighing in at two and a half pounds. After a 6 week hospital stay, we finally brought her home to my parents where we stayed for several more months. While dearly thankful for their generosity, we found that we could not bring our hearts home to the East Coast, having left a large part of them in the Midwest. So we returned to the open invitation of dear friends to begin resettling while staying with them. Now in a few weeks, we will need to move again. For a veritable homebody, the moving alone is enough for me to become unhinged. The thought of a basement apartment that we can't even afford feels like death to my soul. Maybe it's already dead though, at least it feels numb to the touch, for which honestly, I am thankful. I can survive on numb, at least for a while longer.

The promise of substance seems ever before me, but like a haze you cannot see past nor grasp onto. Today our hostess suggested moving into a mutual friend's house while it is on the market. Hubbie and I have done this before, albeit sans dogs and baby, but it wasn't too bad. I wrote the friend and offered to keep up the house until it sells but no reply as of yet. Considering the generous amount of space such house would provide, the idea almost feels wonderful. I am glad not to have heard anything yet. I do not expect said friend to be interested but the hope of the idea gave me enough fuel to get through the afternoon. I think I can handle disappointment better tomorrow. I been an optimist for decades...but the past year has demolished not only most of my coping mechanisms, my emotional and spiritual energy reserve, but that outlook on life as well.

A few days ago, I had a mental picture of fainting just before the finish line. I am glad the race is not for the strong and even yet I had concluded that if I am to cross the finish line, Jesus himself will have to carry me across. I am spent. Survival is a grand accomplishment; even that requires more than I possess to give. Hope deferred, and sick at heart.