I was exhausted when I went to bed. I tend to read until I can’t stand it anymore, hoping my fatigue will overcome my fear.

So when I woke up at 4:30 in the morning I pondered my insomnia–was it fear? Or the soreness in my chest from a wakeboarding fall?

I have not been writing. Writing, like wakeboarding, is something I do to process the pain and confusion of my broken story in this broken world.

Sometimes it is not enough.

I have contemplated both of these regular practices in my life–the writing and the shredding, and find that I can have “blocks” in both.

My husband helped me overcome my most recent wakeboarding block by taking me to a different cable lake.

The change of venue and structures helped. My sense of urgency helped. Prayer helped, as did a humbling reminder of my weakness, and the encouragement of my family.

And weirdly enough the pain of a fall helped as well–a reminder both that fear is sometimes justified and that learning a new trick can be a painful investment.

A painful investment, followed by joy.

Jesus is the master in this–for the joy set before Him, endured the Cross.. Jesus swallows all the pain of a broken world and gives us impossible joy in return–a demoniac returned to whole, a 12 year old returned to life.

Miraculous God: worth the sleepless nights to wonder…

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