Writing the future
The miles I have come along. I am here again, still stir crazy.
God, I never thought you heard me. I never thought these things would fall down from your hand to me.
I begged you for these things. And you decided to give me something my dreams could not form.
He’s good to me. He adores me. Were you preparing him, even in my angst? As I spat in your face? As I declared you to be insufficient in meeting my "needs". As I begged you to break my heart, were you pushing us together even then?
Today I know you call me to do the impossible. To love those that are forgotten. To love more than my own heart is capable.
I’m almost done with my studies. I remember when I was aimless. When you were hunting me down. Waiting in the trees for me to slow down. I remember when I thought I had your blueprints on my heart. What did I know?
My sister once said "People don’t die…". She was only five or so. I laughed and answered her. Of course they do! You think anyone lives forever? Over twenty years later, she still can’t believe people can die. I have to tell her on the phone. You can get through this. He’s dead. Her cry was the most painful thing I have ever heard. What do I know? When we were children I held this wisdom over her head, always ready to mock. Now I want to pray for God to take my false bravado away. I don’t want to know. How this feels. How to get through this pain. I don’t want to know how to comfort. I don’t want to be the one to deliver the good news. For once I want to be able to be the ignorant one. Can someone else mock my innocence? God are you mocking my innocence? Am I allowed to have joy? About what God is setting in motion. Or am I shrouded from this day on? When I asked you to break my heart. This is not what I meant. Why do you choose to shape me like this? You know I am not the running kind. You know I would never leave you. So why would you push me this far? Yes. I want to love him the way you love me. So why have you timed it this way? Studying Job. I feel as if I am holding scraps of his broken pottery in my own hand. I don’t want my love to see me scratching. I don’t want to show him my disease. Am I, like every other doubter, easily forget how Job’s life ends? In gifts and glory.
Sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to grieve or suffer. That for some silly notion I should skip those chapters and meditate on heaven. Sometimes I feel like Job’s friends live in my head. And sinfully, I want to use this black hole to throw my excuses in. I didn’t do my homework, or laundry, or clean my room, or my bills, or my taxed because. My dad’s dead. I don’t know about his salvation. It tears me up. I am upsidedown. I don’t know where my daddy is. And I had all this time to introduce you two. I didn’t. God. Why do you pull my strings. Why do you stay so far off? Why do you just watch me suffer? What other choices do I have? Where else do I have to run to? I used to say that with such fervor. Now I ask, who else with anger. Because there is no one else. I think I can understand Job’s wavering heart. Even as I as and beg why. I find peace and joy in your arms. As soon as I tire from throwing a fit. I am glad to be resting at your feet. To tell you about my day. Guess where I’ve been? Did you see all the food today? Did you work out all those arguments in the kitchen? Did you bring our children back to church? Was that you holding a card board sign? In those little girl’s lost eyes? Did you calm his heart? Did you teach him how to love me? I feel like an elated child. Jumping up and down to get your attention. Do you see me? I know you see me.
You give me purpose and focus. I need you more and more desperately everyday.
I love you Jesus