long to hurt more.
they sear and want to sear deeper.
they long to cry out into the darkness:
is anyone there?
long for comfort.
they seek it in food and drink, listlessness and frenzy, silent tears and screams of pain.
We all have our ways.
One hurting heart,
while hurting for us all,
while abandoned and without hope,
while crying out in the agony of torture,
can we, too?
My husband made a roast chicken over the weekend. I had really been looking forward to it for a variety of reasons — I love it when we can eat dinner together as a family; chicken hadn’t been on sale for weeks and our freezer stash was long gone — but primarily because the last time he made a roast chicken and veggies, it was awesome. This time, he carefully researched how to keep the chicken extra-moist and brined it several days in advance.
Saturday night came. I was eager for my chicken. (I was also starving, since lunch was pizza and cake stolen from my toddler’s plate at a birthday party.) Continue reading