After a long absence from this semi-vulnerable, yet completely genuine avenue of self-reflection, it's time to breathe again in the fresh air of expression. All of us are given to some sort of expression, some sort of creative energy, some sort of extension of ourselves for the world, or at least those closest, to better know us. Tonight I was reminded of that. Tonight I begin again.
Lately, I've been mauling over the fact that I hold God completely responsible for all things good and all things bad in my life. My cynical shield began regarding my husband's health, but it's moved on to other areas in my life. Intellectually I believe and know what is true. However, emotionally I can not cross the divide which keeps me from what I want most: peace.
Not just any peace either. The peace that carries you through the treacherous waters of a sustained illness. The peace that wraps you in the cold winds of rumors and untruths. The peace that reminds you who your Daddy is, and what your Daddy does, and how safe it is in His embrace.
The inviting idea of Him continues to knock at my heart, begging me to embrace my Father as a child. He invites me closer to, as my three-year-old says, "get all snuggly." I know she feels safe there. I know I will too as I continue to shed my demands for answered questions and surrender to the idea that God is accountable to no one, most especially me, and that's a very good thing indeed.
Lately, I've been mauling over the fact that I hold God completely responsible for all things good and all things bad in my life. My cynical shield began regarding my husband's health, but it's moved on to other areas in my life. Intellectually I believe and know what is true. However, emotionally I can not cross the divide which keeps me from what I want most: peace.
Not just any peace either. The peace that carries you through the treacherous waters of a sustained illness. The peace that wraps you in the cold winds of rumors and untruths. The peace that reminds you who your Daddy is, and what your Daddy does, and how safe it is in His embrace.
The inviting idea of Him continues to knock at my heart, begging me to embrace my Father as a child. He invites me closer to, as my three-year-old says, "get all snuggly." I know she feels safe there. I know I will too as I continue to shed my demands for answered questions and surrender to the idea that God is accountable to no one, most especially me, and that's a very good thing indeed.
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