I’ve been here before. This space between loss and healing. And for all the glories I sing of grief…its beauty…its worth…its refining gifts…I HATE this part. This space of waiting. I sit, avoiding the pain that will restore, refresh, recreate.
I’ve been here before. Somewhere along the way…after months of following God’s call…things get hard and I take my eyes off of Him…all the while, doing “His” work…but on my terms. I hit survival mode…digging in and pushing. Hard. Gumption. Determination. Unflinching…because I’ve stopped feeling. I just want to finish my assignment, not realizing that the finish line is not God’s goal nor plan for me. The plan is the struggle…feeling…failing…weakness and all the beauty therein.
I’ve been here before. Rants before God, who I blame for all my misery…because it is easier to be mad than vulnerable.
- “God, YOUR way sucks.”
- “God, I refuse, refuse, REFUSE to let this stand.”
- “God? What gives? My plans are good. I mean REALLY good. And yours? They…are lacking.”
- “Okay, God. I’m not interested in your next assignment. Not. Cause this hurts. And if I dig in, grieve, and let you heal me, you are going to give me another ridiculous assignment.”
- Putting my hands over my ears, “I’m not listening, God. I’m not listening.”
I’ve been here before…having grieved the person…but not the dreams. To look full into the face of my hope for my life…and say goodbye.
I’ve been here before. Ready to break. Ready to feel. Just holding out a little bit longer…before I surrender.
I’ve been here before.