Story 101 Prompt: Why?

why bother?
why care?
why fight?
why push through?
why keep going?
why God?

why haunts me

At times because it's the only word that gets close to the depth of my grief, that give legitimacy to my anger.
I remember being told to stop asking why.
For years it was all I did.
Why God, why both, why stop, why live?

Most of my whys have been quieted - hush did that for me last year.

Why is never a question that needs an answer. In our culture, it's the only safe expression for pain.

Why marked my years of despair, the years of hopelessness, the years of death

I don't seem to need it now - not the way that I used to.
It's still always an invitation, to dig deeper into my own heart, into the hearts of others.

Now why opens the door to more. It can be despair, it can be accusation - it's also an invitation, an opening, a way to ask for the piece of story that is hiding in someone's eyes, begging to be called out, needing to be seen.

Why is a gift - a heart question, a pleading. I forget that when my women ask "Why does he do this?" they don't want my experience or explanation. They are asking for my heart. They need my heart to see them, to see their pain, to open myself up and offer to bear a burden that is too great to be borne alone.

Why is a sacred calling - a glimpse into being hands and feet, of living His heart.