The quiet is simultaneously soothing and distressing. It stifles the anger. It allows for reflection, analysis, and resolution. Feelings breed with thoughts. Thoughts wander, darting ahead in time and back into the past. Very little focus remains on the present. Hundreds of questions surface, very few of which are answered. Memories arise, brimming over into tears. Dreams are in the periphery, broken and desperately trying to quickly reassemble into new dreams. The sound of the breeze through the crisp fall leaves unknowingly prompts a deep breath. Frustration is exhaled. Much is considered, but little is resolved. The pain lingers. The pain permeates. Hope smolders.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Letting Go(d)
One of the hardest things for me is to really, truly let go and give God control in my life.
First of all, I'm a bit of a control freak. I'm good at doing things properly, thoroughly, and in a timely manner, and sometimes it just seems easier to do it myself than to wonder and worry if someone else will do it right (or do it to my standards). I know. I make it harder than it needs to be.
Second, I associate loss of control with vulnerability and with taking advantage. I know, cognitively, that God has my best interests at heart and loves me and promises to protect me, but I'm telling you it is very hard for me. I really struggle to suspend the negative associations I have about giving humans control in my life.
Third, what does it really mean to give God control? What if I don't see or hear him directing my days, my words, and my choices? What then? Most of us don't encounter burning bushes or angelic messengers to relay God's will for our lives...
In recent days, I've been forced to deal with something extremely shocking and painful. I found myself pretty close to rock bottom, not able to cope adequately or make sense of things or adapt to the blow that was delivered to my little world. People have prayed for me. I've prayed. I've asked for lots of things, including comfort, direction, peace, and the ability to cope and move forward. As I've focused more and more on how to actually give God control of my life, I've imagined myself in a corn maze, much like the one I recently visited. I imagine coming to each intersection, not having any clue as to which way to go. I imagine NOT feeling anxious or scared as I get deeper and deeper into the maze and farther from the entrance or exit. It isn't easy. It isn't easy at all, at least not for me. But I'm trying. God, I'm trying. Because when I insist on running my own life, it seems I don't always get the best results. I don't choose the best direction. I ignore the warning signs. I wind up at a dead end with no idea how to get back to a safe place. Show me the right path. Open my eyes and ears to hear your gentle calling. Keep me safe. Help me to trust. It's so hard God. It's so hard.
First of all, I'm a bit of a control freak. I'm good at doing things properly, thoroughly, and in a timely manner, and sometimes it just seems easier to do it myself than to wonder and worry if someone else will do it right (or do it to my standards). I know. I make it harder than it needs to be.
Second, I associate loss of control with vulnerability and with taking advantage. I know, cognitively, that God has my best interests at heart and loves me and promises to protect me, but I'm telling you it is very hard for me. I really struggle to suspend the negative associations I have about giving humans control in my life.
Third, what does it really mean to give God control? What if I don't see or hear him directing my days, my words, and my choices? What then? Most of us don't encounter burning bushes or angelic messengers to relay God's will for our lives...
In recent days, I've been forced to deal with something extremely shocking and painful. I found myself pretty close to rock bottom, not able to cope adequately or make sense of things or adapt to the blow that was delivered to my little world. People have prayed for me. I've prayed. I've asked for lots of things, including comfort, direction, peace, and the ability to cope and move forward. As I've focused more and more on how to actually give God control of my life, I've imagined myself in a corn maze, much like the one I recently visited. I imagine coming to each intersection, not having any clue as to which way to go. I imagine NOT feeling anxious or scared as I get deeper and deeper into the maze and farther from the entrance or exit. It isn't easy. It isn't easy at all, at least not for me. But I'm trying. God, I'm trying. Because when I insist on running my own life, it seems I don't always get the best results. I don't choose the best direction. I ignore the warning signs. I wind up at a dead end with no idea how to get back to a safe place. Show me the right path. Open my eyes and ears to hear your gentle calling. Keep me safe. Help me to trust. It's so hard God. It's so hard.
Monday, October 13, 2014
The Sting of Betrayal
It's called the sting of betrayal because it literally burns, it causes you to pull back sharply as you inhale a short, rapid, but strong breath of air - as if your brain knows you'll need a bit more oxygen to process the news. Moments and hours go by, and at times you can almost distract yourself enough to mute the pain, but ah, there it is, still throbbing, still reminding you of that moment of contact that is seared into you. You can treat it and be somewhat successful in soothing the pain, but once your source of comfort is removed, it returns as strong as before, reminding you that nothing has really been healed. You lie awake in bed, desperately craving the sleep your body and mind need, but the throb keeps you awake. Scenes, words, and images, flash behind even closed eyes as you replay the shock of it over and over again, each time foolishly hoping there is a different ending. You marvel at your own stupidity, for buying into the game, for believing the lies, for dragging innocent bystanders into harm's way. You recall the most inane moments, now with a glaze of distrust and paranoia. And still it throbs. Still it burns. Still it stings. Yes, this is real. Nightmares and fears don't hurt like this.
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