The void. Well, to be comepletely honest (no lying here), the void has been an ever-decreasing space. Not because life is any easier than it ever is--always the thoughts about finances, bumps in the road, future plans, Tyler's nap schedule and butt rashes, etc..--but there's been this sense of a STORY. Do you know what I mean?
Like this: a story has to have its ups and downs, and I think a lot of us get trapped into thinking that the chapter we're living in the present moment is the last chapter--like that's the end of the novel right there.
But the truth Jen and I have been embracing is that a novel is a lot biggger than any single chapter. And a life--a full story--is so much mnore than a hard moment or two. (Or three.)
In other words, I have been praying and seeking Christ to help me see the story, and not the chapter. And it's working.
So the void, in that sense, is not really a void at all. For a void is vast darkness, and in every story, vast darkness is never really present. It's more the pockets of blindness we face, before realizing that the light had never really left us at all; it was just shining from the pages of a different chapter--one we haven't yet written, or one we've already read.
