For me, the hard truth is there is nothing I can really do to help solve this. I only harden their positions when I try to insert myself, offering what feels to me like the most obvious reasons. After this week's most recent round of ghost warfare, my husband insists he is fine, but I know he is not. He has gone quiet, brooding, and I can feel the lack of peace in our house, the roiling seas beneath his carefully composed surface, the spirit caged, anger and sorrow unexpressed, willfully contained. God, I hate this. I am here this morning trying to process my own roiling internal seas, the sadness of it all beyond knowing.
In the background of all this sturm and drang, my interviews for the proposal have been going well. I have begun writing, as the deadline looms. I'm still only a mere toe dip in the water, but it is something when you get the first sentence, the first paragraphs, and they don't make you want to stab anything. As always, I pray to be an open channel for my subject, to do her extraordinary story justice. Mostly this morning, I'm praying for peace to live inside me, inside my beloveds, I'm praying for an end to the tears that do not fall, the dam brimming. Love is all.