Heavy.

My heart is so very heavy this morning.

I had a whole slew of posts planned out for the rest of this week about fun events I’ve attended and new products I’ve discovered, but right now I’m feeling too raw and emotional to pretend to care.

On a good day, these topics seem frivolous, but given the events of the last few days . . . I just can’t bear to keep prattling on when there is so much heartache and pain going on around me.

Without going into all the gory details, we’ve been dealing with some medical issues in our home. I would explain further except that the party concerned is not fond of being the object of discussion on my blog, and I need to honor that.

Suffice it to say that it’s been a tough couple of days, but I think we are going to be alright. We have a treatment plan and a fairly optimistic prognosis, and we are very thankful that we were able to have the necessary tests and see the specialists that gave us our answers without having to wait.

But there’s more.

There are friends suffering with all manner of heartache today. Some are neighbors, some are friends, some I only know on Facebook. But their pain is real. Everywhere I look, I see pain and suffering. And I hurt for them.

I can’t help but imagine what they are going through, what they are thinking, how they are feeling. And I can’t help but think how unfair it all is. These thoughts have been taking over my thoughts and my emotions lately. I’m just feeling very raw today.

Please forgive me for being cryptic; some stories simply aren’t mine to tell.

I went running this morning — my first time out in over a week. I forced myself to go, after a fitful night of more wake that sleep.

My mind wandered, as it tends to do when I’m pounding the pavement. Before I knew it, I had tears streaming and sobs heaving.

As I rounded the corner to my neighborhood, Phil Phillips’ song Home came on my iPod. I love the song and always enjoy it, but the words had a bittersweet message this time.

I gazed down my peaceful street lined with attractive homes and tidy lawns, where we raise our kids and dream our dreams, and I suddenly had this thought:

This is not my home.

This world. This fallen, painful, mixed-up world. It is not my home. 

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:18

I wish I could say I found total peace and comfort in that fact, but for today it just has to be enough to get me through.