We’re going through something hard right now, my love and I.
We’re in the thick of it, without resolution in sight.
This hard thing has left me disappointed in the most significant way. Not the disappointment you feel when plans are cancelled or when someone you trust lets you down.
It’s a soul-denting disappointment that I’m wrestling with these days. And there’s nothing that can be done to change it.
That leaves him feeling powerless.
He wants to take my pain away. He wants to change the situation. But neither of us has an ounce of control here.
So when the disappointment sets in, and I cry in bed at night, all he can do is hold me.
When morning comes, over coffee, he tells me he wishes he could say something to take my pain away.
There is nothing I can do to convince him that what he has to offer is enough.
Then I remember the photographs we had made two years ago. I remember the visual of his strong frame supporting my smaller body.
I called him “my mountain” when I saw those images. Quietly strong, standing solid and supportive as I act out the drama of my story.
I reminded him of those images and say that all I need him to be is my mountain today.
That photograph, hanging above the small desk in our bedroom, is what I needed to breathe some comfort and meaning into my heart that’s heavy with disappointment.