dear hilary: when it isn’t okay, it still is

Dear Hilary,

My question is silly, maybe, but real. I read you and I’m wondering, where does wisdom come from?

Love,

just curious

Dear just curious,

To answer your lovely question:

From God. From the woods after a long day. From aching with laughter and with pain in the same night. From a brother who asked me to bake with him last night and whose sweet smile brought me out of myself. From the moment when you say, “Jesus?” in the trembling voice and He says, “Yes.”

From getting on your knees in the dirt.

From the millionth mistake in the same direction.

From everything you learn you cannot do.

From being forgiven.

From sitting on your bed reading Rilke and then curling up and crying silently because you want to be that wise and you know you aren’t, you want to accept sadness and you keep trying to force it out, you want to begin and be vast and write poetry and love earnestly and all of the rest… but you’re small and still and you spilled carpet glue on yourself and you can’t seem to make heads or tails of this new brave world.

From trusting people when they say they love you.

From waiting.

From unrequited love.

From writing letters to yourself on Wednesdays and more from the wiser people who whisper to you that it’s okay not to know the answer.

Where does wisdom come from, sweetheart? From a heart overwhelmed with love for the One who makes all things new. From asking Him hard questions. From waiting for Him – more than watchmen for the morning. 

Love,

Hilary

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