Yesterday I had a thought that I haven’t before. I feel forsaken.

Even if my rational mind does not believe that is true, it’s how I feel. It hit when I was in my car, Christian radio on, and someone was singing about God always being their shelter and their rock and always being there for them and I realized that although I can rationally know that is true, I am not feeling it. I feel forsaken. I have smiled and praised and been thankful and grateful for so long, through so many trials. But I did have hope that the trials would someday end and there would be joy in the morning.

My hope is ebbing away. I believe in the joy of life after death, but I am losing hope that there will be any sort of turnaround in my life before that point.

I know I have it good. My family loves me. I have a safe house. I have my little garden. I have my pets. My work I do.

And yet, the word forsaken still resonates me with more strongly than any other. I am not angry or even really sad. I am quiet. Introspective. I am still rolling this word around on my tongue and tasting how it feels to me. Forsaken.

At this time, in this moment, in this season, it feels right.