Is it that some wounds run so deep, LIFE has to scour us for what seems a merciless amount of time, before we ever have hope of healing?

To live through the scouring process is brutal, more so when there seems to be an endless amount of it, or repeat sessions of it.

To be stuck in the scour.

Unable to catch breath.
Unbearable temperatures.
Uncomfortable to the nth degree.

Dark. Damp. Dour.

It’s hard to keep faith, to live in joy, to trust when the situation is so.

And while there is still yet hope in the purpose of it, the darkness is overwhelming.

Please send illumination to clear the fog, even if just for a moment.

You charge us to cry out to you, I’m crying for all I’m worth…

…that you’ll give them,

all of us,

light.