A Wife Loved Like The Church

Have you ever had words forming in your head, in your heart, only for them to get stuck? They just can’t move through your fingers, through to paper. I feel like that is where I have been for months.

Stuck.

I looked up stuck in the dictionary. It is the past tense of stick, which means to hold, cleave, or cling; to remain persistently or permanently.

I have to ask myself, “what am I clinging to? what am I refusing to let go?”. When the words won’t come, when what I am thinking or feeling just won’t release. What keeps me stuck?

Often I wonder if I’m afraid to feel all the feelings. Those feelings of pain, anger, fear. Those feelings of joy, happiness, relief. Afraid of the bad because it hurts so. Yet afraid of the good because it is so fleeting.

But what growth do I have if I stay stuck? Even if unstuck means pain, at least I’m moving.

So bare with me as I attempt to get unstuck. As I attempt over the next few weeks to let the words flow. They are sure to be confused, to be jumbled, as they unstick and move out of the muck. But move they must.