Sorrow cradled in beauty

I wish I could write words as beautiful as the music I've been listening to all day. If I could, you would  feel my breathing nearly cease like the low, sweeping glide of bow across cello string.

And then, just when it seems I'll never breathe again, you would hear my heart lilt to life like a piano: low, slow chords--do-do-do, dee-da-da-da--then a crescendo with the right hand singing higher and higher--trilling, trilling, trilling--slowing, falling, doubting, fading. That would be my heart hoping in God, trying to trust, failing.

Trying again.

And then, the violin. Sorrow cradled in beauty. All strivings cease.

I am just a girl sitting at my desk and crying. Crying because the world is so messed up. Crying because God is bigger than God and the only right response to that knowledge is to fall to pieces in His hands and finally feel whole.