What was so wrong with the old normal that it had to be replaced with this?
The new normal.
It doesn’t feel normal at all. It’s like a half life–surreal, hazy, like I’m on the outside looking in. It looks familiar, but I don’t recognize it as my life. Who is this man who shuffles around in a stupor? Wait…
Can it be?
And me is not coping very well with this new new normal. I want to hide, cry escape when I see her–she who so loved life–reduced to a husk of her former self. The tears, shaking, anxiety.
It makes me angry.
“Why, God? She loves you. You who opened blind eyes, unstopped deaf ears, raised the dead… Where are you now?”
If this be mercy, it’s severe. Fill quickly the cup so we can return to normal. I want to see her smile, hear her laugh, be with her in the way a man is with his wife.
Quickly let this new pass so that we may return to the life we had. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours.
And we knew how to navigate it. This unfamiliar landscape is an arid, broken place. Where is the water and shade? Whither the oasis?
God, you’ve got to do something, anything–anything other than this.
What was so wrong with the old normal? Must you take every bit of happiness, and turn it to dust?
I’m calling you out.
Calling you to account.
Not for my sake.
Or for hers.
But for the sake of the watching world. The world that hears, sees, wonders if you’re there. Are you?
We need a miracle.