The Bottles

I failed, I did not reach the goals I set for myself tonight. I thought I was ready for anything. I thought nothing would keep me from reaching my goals. A freshly mowed lawn and no crying. That is pretty straight forward and easy … right?

It started out pretty good. I got the lawn mower started and though it was difficult to push it through the long grass, it was getting done. I felt my first quiver of disquiet when I came across the string of Christmas lights. I slowly pulled them out of the tangle of grass and thought about the harsh daily reality of living with an alcoholic. Did he not see this string when he took them down? Was he too drunk to care? I shook my head and with great determination resolutely pushed those thoughts aside and started the lawn mower once again.

I kept struggling through the grass inch by inch making slow difficult progress until I came to the 40 ounce malt liquor bottle. There it lay there in the flower bed, hidden by the grass that had grown up around it. I took a deep breath, picked it up and walked to the garbage can dropping it on top of the Christmas lights. I stood there and looked at the “evidence” for a long while. It was with a much more somber demeanor that I started the lawn mower and began to mow again. When I came across the whiskey bottle I lost it. I sat down in the middle of the front lawn and cried.

There is really no easy way to explain everything that I am feeling at this point. I am having trouble sorting it all out. I am grieved at the sheer waste those empty bottles represent. The waste of the life and promise that Christ had given a wonderful and talented man, the waste of relationships broken and discarded along the way …. thrown away as so much worthless garbage. I am also hurt as I remember the man who wanted those bottles more than he wanted me… more than he wanted anything else. The hurt swells up within me and threatens to choke off the very air I breathe.

I keep trying to remind myself that this is part of the process, there will be times that I hurt and times that I cry. But the searing reality is that this hurt is an overwhelming flood that I can see no way out of at this moment.

“I am in pain and distress; may your salvation, O God, protect me.” Psalm 69:29

I choose to believe that God is sufficient for this hurt even now. God loves me, God loves me, God loves me . That is enough to hold on to until the flood has passed.

Just Connie