Ann is right...my brokenness has left me unsatisfied. Always wishing for more, for different, for greener. My heart is broken, my eyesight is crossed. All is distorted because of my brokenness.
I watched from the doorway as my broken self reprimanded my oldest. I think on a plan to pacify it all with kisses and apologies but it may be too late. I can't take back that thought process. If it's one thing kids remember, it's the scary.
I'm sure I scared her.
I haven't been myself these last few days. I feel like I've reverted back to my dark days, where I cried empty tears from hollow emotions. I snap at every second and my family looks on as if their hopes of my return to happiness was all temporary. I'm walking backwards and I'm just wondering if maybe God wants me to revisit something.
My Lord, lately I've revisited the darkest of myself. How much further shall I go?
And it doesn't feel good, this moonwalk back into old feelings. I don't want them anymore. I want Him to take them from me, remove them from my mind, rub the stain of them from my heart.
Does He want me to start from scratch? I feel my heart being ripped out. If it is faulty then take it Lord. Take it. Anything that isn't of You, that doesn't glorify You then take it from me. I would rather be without a hand that steals and lips that lie then to carry them around and keep You distant.
Funny thing is that I keep listening to the same song in my head, a song of self sacrifice and utmost saving and it motivates me to think back. He wants me to wipe this slate clean with baptismal waters. He's given me the tools I beg for every morning a long time ago. I've hidden them but He is showing me their hiding places. He listens to me and yet, He's giving me time.
The virtue I lack so obnoxiously. That in itself is a lesson needed.
Sitting to wait. Waiting with a smile.
Trying to keep my legs from shaking. From me rising up from my chair to see what's going on.
My anxiety, my fears, my anger, all stem from my impatience. My past is all an impatient story that now needs to be rewritten.
He knows what my biggest downfall is. He's fine tuning me. Oh God, how could I not open up myself to your healing hands? Why am I so shy, untrusting, selfish, nurturing the inadequacy instead of letting it go? I've no control over anything. Not my thoughts, not my thoughts.
Not even my own hands on this keyboard.
Yet I crouch and cringe when He reaches to touch that of which I loathe but fiercely care for with every part of me. My faults I cling to, thinking they identify me somehow. Thinking they give me some sort of excuse to keep behaving this way. But they don't. My identity belongs to God.
Thy will be done.
Letting go so that His will be done.
Your will be done.
Your will be done.
I have to trust that He knows what he's doing.
"Glory to God, glory to God, in fullness of wisdom"
-How Emptiness Sings by Christa Wells