When i was younger, i'd wait till everyone has retired to bed, so that I can creep back into the living room to enjoy the solitude of night - doing nothing except listening to soothing music and daydreaming away. I just realized today that not much has changed in that regard - except that it's harder to stay up late without the throbbing consequences to my mornings. However, on such quiet nights as these, I have found that there is great benefit to idle daydreaming along the corridors of graceful providence. I have this one giant notebook that has travelled with me across many journeys. I have scribbled countless late night dreams which i have woken up to on countless mornings to chase and pray hard after. But as with all of us, flipping through some of those pages feels like walking through a boulevard of broken dreams. I stopped asking silly questions like 'why me' sometime last year when i painfully realised that though i am privileged to view the world through my own singular perspective, it really does not revolve around me. So why not me? And neither does faith make me immune from any of the heartaches that we will all walk through at some point - it is how the cookie crumbles - hardly any one of us makes it through unscathed in some way. This may seem like an obviousness but you know how some truths become painfully real to you such that it seems like no one else had ever realized it. So i have quietly embraced every page of that notepad, soaring and painful hopes none withstanding. And like tonight, i do wince at some hopes that still seem so very far off and who knows, may never come to pass...#Quiet....But i also enthusiastically celebrate the priviledges in the dreams that i have stepped into and now breathe in every morning. I realised a transitioning in my faith recently which some may disagree with but which suits me just fine. It is this....I no longer position an argument for the existence of God in all of these madness. I find that instead, i am cluchting hard to one thin desperate and worn out shroud of what is left of my own faith, within which i am quietly hoping hard...for there to be a God...somewhere that'll make it all worth the while somehow and sometime. I love the audacity in the sensible truth that if Christ is not raised, then indeed, vain also is our preaching, and vain also your faith.
I am dreaming again tonight, being fully aware that not all dreams come true. But that's fine, because some do. And if the stars don't shine on this one, I'll dream yet another for tomorrow.
P.S......My comment responses may be slow but i do honestly collect every one and allow them lap gently against the lazy lakes of my meandering thoughts.
Have a good night folks....And if you found solidarity in any of my implied contexts, hang in there :)