when crashing into "i'm done" (read: "i can't handle this. i'm over it, i'm done") steps to the side long enough to make way for "i'm done" (read: "i finished it all, completed, i'm done"). because the finishing was less about factual measures and more about a giant scooping together of fragments of our experiences and allowing them the space to change us and about how the choices we made were less about right or wrong and more about good, better, best, and how can we really know if this is a good choice or the best choice but by living it and then looking back. and it is then that being done means something, because i am different, for better or for worse, than i was before but not because of who i am or am not, but because, weak or strong, i know one who is king of redeeming all of the fragments to make me whole and the best possible.

when finding that the novels can be written about differences between you but when the "i'm done" comes you see the strength and courage that overwhelms the differences. surprising strength, deafening courage. realizing that there's not an ounce of condemnation in these terrifying choices, good, bad, or ugly, but there is expectation in them...expectation that these days, this season will effect the next and that we will start in a different, a better place next time with more understanding holding tighter to the truths that may have slipped our minds several times in this season, because they are etched more securely, more deeply, more boldly now. is that called character?

i am thankful that this season is showing signs of ending because it was hard. but there's something about the hard that i hope makes its way into the next season, because it is good and right and ugly-beautiful and it makes us better. makes us the best?

let love and faithfulness never leave you. bind them around your neck write them on the tablet of your heart