My tongue is in my hand…

I miss you. I miss you furiously. I miss you with a quickness that leaves me gasping for air.

I am most alive, I am home, with you. I can not stop that. I can not change that. It has not taken it upon itself to change that. I am perhaps completely unsafe there, but it is there that I rest, and just the briefest rest sparks within me the movement, the belief, the need.

(the need to love you. and with that, the tentative hope that you may love me, that you may need to love me)

There are so, so many words to say. I don’t say them. I…I just…I’m just…waiting.

This tests my faith like nothing else. To leave this. To let it be. To let it become what it will. To let time take this and to just love as honestly as I can, as quietly as I can, as steadfastly as I can.

It is the quietly part that gets me.

To love you quietly pushes me to the brink of madness.

And to writing.

(which is at times all the same, right?)

I am here, loving you still, like I always have, it seems, the exact same way I’ve always had to, quietly…roaring within, like the waves of this crash upon themselves within me, in the privacy of my quiet.

To trust this is possibly the very hardest thing. Because it can get very dark. It can get very silent. It can get very chaotic. It can deplete me. It can worry me. It can dampen my resolve to see this through.

Yet, still, I don’t believe I have a choice. This is it’s own beast. It’s own force of nature. It’s own storyline.

I feel like all the answers are wrapped up in this. That the secret truths this holds are all the ones I am seeking. I glance upon myself and know I am still, even now, not enough to take this on. It is an unripe fruit. Or I am. It gets foggy.

To love you quietly. Can you hear me?

 

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It is a single act of your kindness that undid me that week. What would it be like if I were always around such kindness? Would it heal me? Would it fill in the cracks? Would it pump confidence into me? Would I begin to believe good things again? Would I begin to believe I was worth the kindness? Would I finally be the person I really am because I wouldn’t have to be afraid?

I could never answer those questions for myself. The whole idea is terrifying. The whole idea is overwhelming.

And that makes me angry. It makes me feel like an animal. Like somewhere along the way, some of my humanity has been lost or destroyed, and that’s not okay.

But it is too late.

Or,

is it?

 

(it’s never too late)

I just want everything to be okay. Like really okay. Like smooth. Like work out and not fall apart and then work out. I’m tired of things falling apart. I’m tired of worrying. I want things to go in my favor, to be pretty, to be miraculous. I want to stop having to keep things together, because they will just be together. I want to believe that is what is happening, that everything is moving forward for me now, that these tests and trials are behind me and that blue skies are ahead of me. I don’t want fall out. Can I have some good without some fallout? My faith is tricky right now, my mind is unclear. I don’t know what to pray or think or feel or do. I don’t feel like anything I do is right or good enough or…I want some clarity without some heartbreak. Can that happen? Please? Just some showers of blessings please? I will do good with them, I swear. I will shower them on others. Please, just let me be in the sunshine for a while.

Don’t worry about the past in trying to make full sense of it, or trying to use it to assume the future, trying to understand me. Your past has given you knowledge, and you can apply it without obsessing.

I am bigger than what you can understand, and far more complex the the earthly things and ways around you.

Take your lessons and move forward. Do not worry. I have never, will never, leave you nor forsake you. Everything really is okay. But you do need to do your part. Who you are now is not who you were. So let that person go. Forgive her. Leave her where she was. You are moving forward, you are new.

Keep believing. I move mountains, I move people, I move entities. I move everything. I hold time in my hands. Do not fear. Be faithful. And really do your best. Your very best.

Take heart. You are more than you have believed yourself to be. I live in you. You can do all you need to, and I will do the rest.

Do not despair. Do not try to predict everything. Just do your best. Really do it. Your best is good enough. Do not doubt. This is about to be a beautiful, amazing, fantastic, peaceful, joyful, productive season for you, for your family.

You did not ruin everything. You are not that powerful. But what you do does affect others, so be careful with what you do. Be proactive. Be prayerful. Believe. Every little effort makes a difference. Don’t get discouraged. Keep at it. Every day. You will see, you will see.

I love you, precious daughter. Have no fear. Be joyful in me.

musing

Posted on: June 20, 2011

Sometimes it hits me hard, quick and hard, what I know about people’s lives now. That I know there are children that were systematically sexually and emotionally abused by their families. Children pimped out by their mothers for drugs. Children tied up in sheds fed like dogs. These sound like news stories, but the thing about news stories is they are real. This is real. I have met these people. I have sat across from them, hugged them, driven them places in my car, laughed with them, seen their constant struggles and frustrations and disappointments and confusions. Their sadness, their underlying hurt and doubt and fear and anger. And I can’t go back and make sure that someone held them and took care of them and made them laugh and feel safe. Like children should.

Heartbreaking is not the word. It hurts my soul. It’s just there are so many ways to be lucky, to be blessed, to be wealthy. And there are so many ways to be poor. Most of us are a little of both. Rich in some things, poor in others. They don’t cancel one another out.

I just hate, really hate, what some people are robbed of. And I just really want to see us all taking care of one another. To be connected…I can’t pinpoint it right now, but it makes a difference.

 

 

Heat

Posted on: June 10, 2011

It’s such a heavy hot outside sometimes that I will step out of my car and feel as if I’m going to suffocate. I take deep breaths and my chest constricts and I’m not sure if it’s heat or panic. It can’t be panic.

It’s only when I can’t breathe that I mind the heat. Otherwise, I like the sticky thickness of it. It feels essential to summer here. Without it, we wouldn’t be who we are.

Maybe we’d be sane.

The truth of everything is that sane is so subjective. We all find people lacking sanity who find themselves completely sane. Who’s to say, really?

 

Posted on: May 27, 2011

I’m afraid I’m going to run out of wine

I’m afraid you never read the things I write