Decompression

Over the past three weeks I have had a tension and anxiety that couldn’t be shaken. Honestly big things have been a thorn in my side since the beginning of this year. I didn’t know how to solve it, how to pray about it, or who to talk to about it. So I covered it up with distractions. I have been going out nearly every night and filling my free thoughts with solvable (historical) problems. A few of my friends always come to me to interpret dreams, and luckily there were many odd ones to keep me occupied. I have also been neck deep in grad work. Sadly two of my professors have had a nasty streak of unprofessionalism and I had to confront them. I crossed my fingers that they wouldn’t take vengeance out on my work.

To be honest, I haven’t felt like praying. Praying meant facing the things I could not change, the situations that hurt, and the tensions I had been ignoring. So I suppressed it. It all became too much and my heart couldn’t take it. On Saturday it started beating so fast that I couldn’t catch my breath. My numb body shook and I was terrified that if I couldn’t calm down I would have to go back to the hospital only to be told again that there is nothing they can do. It is scary when a doctor can see your condition, but cannot name it or cure it. I went for a long drive with a friend. I took in the scenery and breathed as slowly as possible, desperately trying to empty my brain of the stress. I felt so isolated in the intensity.

But now I am on an island in the middle of a vast ocean. I can sit still and breathe again. I can close my eyes and feel the uneven texture of sand underneath me. I can feel the warm light rest upon my skin. It is tangible, but weightless. I can hear the waves crash and the wild roosters crow. I can smell the tropical rain moving in. I can taste the passion fruit that I picked this morning. I can sense God.

All is well. Everything is and will be fine. God has not abandoned me. He has not brought me this far to fail. I so intensely crave a life that pleases God. I work till it hurts, then work more. I give till I am lacking, and then find more to give. I allow people to speak badly of me in hopes that they are not criticizing anyone else. I let people take advantage of my kindness, in the hope that they are at least kind to others. It has become a little more than I can handle and I have realized not all if it is worth it (and flawed). It is worthwhile to pause and partake in the fruits of labor. In this case the labor of God with creation and nature. Thank you Lord for lifting this tension. Thank you for clearing the air so that I can hear You more distinctly. Thank you for the wildlife that wakes me each morning. Thank for for this smile on my face, this peace in my heart, and this joy throughout my body.

 

If I Were Strong Enough to Punch You…

When I think of true wickedness, I think of those who manipulate and cheat people they pretend to love. Abusing the affections of others kills off all redeeming aspects of a person.. until they become nothing more than a loathsome brute.

I have no respect or tolerance for those who veil their destructive selfishness in charm.

As my friend cried again over the horrible cheating nature of her ex-husband, I wished I were stronger so I could hit him. Better for him to be beaten down and humbled now, than continuing to go through life compiling a rap sheet of vicious crimes against women.

All the lies surfaced and his sins were made public. He promised these women his heart and showered them with false flatteries only to cast them off. He tempted them and destroyed them. Are these not the same characteristics of the greatest Evil? Does he not recognize that when he treats women so carelessly, he is mistreating the very creation of God? Each of these women has a purpose and is deeply loved by God, but yet he only viewed them for sex. I cringe over the state of his heart. How could anyone claim to love and serve the Lord, when all they do is abuse those around them?

So women, beware the boy whose words form only flattery. The reason he says it so easily, is not because of his love for you, but because he has said it a thousand times before.