It really was quite the ugly cliché.
But I meant it with everything I had.
A friend had asked the procedural question, asked how I was. And when the cliché eked into my response, he eyed me with a skepticism that shot holes into every syllable. I, of course, knew how unsatisfactory the words were. Because if there’s anything that makes me curdle inside, it’s the misappropriation of a phrase. Words otherwise dated correctly can spoil as soon as they leave your mouth.
But I truly meant all of it.
I had no earthly idea how I was doing, but had every certain idea in heaven and earth
that my Precious Jesus is good.
So I said it.
Words hollowed from excessive use sometimes prove themselves hallowed spaces to cradle inside. And Christ comes into the emptiness of things we may not yet understand, birthing a holy cry in the middle of our holes.
Let me be the first to open up that second box of clichés a little more. Read the rest from Rachel over here…