I lead you to my pain. We look at it together. I ask you to get rid of it. You have another idea. You listen to my fears, and wait for me to gather my courage. And then we step into it.
You stay with me when I think I can’t bear it anymore. I’m always wrong about that, and you know it. Sometimes we pause, and then wade on.
You say you can see the other side. Blinded by tears, I can only see the next step. But I trust you, so we wade on.
You say that what you can see is a wonderful place. I sob with longing. Just the idea of that place seems like an impossible dream. But you tell me it’s real, so we wade on.
There’s no other way there. No bridge, no boat. Just the narrow rocky shore we came from, and then this river of pain.
It’s getting deeper, harder to wade, harder to keep my head above water. Surely things are getting worse, my life is heading in the wrong direction. No, you say. We are heading in the right direction. There’s the other side, where a better life is waiting.
I still can’t see it. But I still trust you. And you say: if this was easy, you’d already be there. If this didn’t hurt, you would have stepped into the river a long time ago. This is hard, and it hurts. But it’s the only way to the other side.
I’m afraid that the current will still carry me away before we get there. You say: it might, but you are strong, what you are doing is amazing, what you still can do is wonderful; I believe in you.
I can’t feel the bottom anymore, and we are swimming now, buoyed by your belief.