The page remains blank, and no matter how many times you check that blog the same picture remains at the top.
yet there is.
Like the times you lay in bed next to each other, and you know if you start the flow of words, it will just take too long to sort it through, so you roll over and go to sleep instead.
I've been rolling over and turning my back to you.
It's been easier.
But it hasn't.
I've been busy, achieving boundaries on my time, choosing what is needed and hopefully profitable.
Yet I've neglected this one thing that could benefit us both.
Silence is not always golden.
I read this today. Maybe only other bloggers can understand this struggle. The rest just think we are crazy to put our hearts out in black and white anyway. Maybe we are. And yet relationship is born of honesty and communication and people who don't tell the truth about who they are are never really known by each other.
Loneliness is born of pretending, hiding.
To be honest, I've quit this venue and as a result, lost track of His voice. I've plugged my ears, stilled my tapping fingers, and closed up my heart so you can't see what is there, so I don't have to process and make sense of what I am:
An ungrateful mess.
How many times must I read the book, jot out gifts, lead the book club?
How many ways do I need to frame it up in my home, reminding myself, that this is all gift, grace?
I am broken.
But when I come here, I can only be honest.
Could it be that this place is where I best face what and who I am?
If I lose track of the stories, I’ll lose track of part of me. Lose track of His voice in this life. Telling our stories, keeping traces of His graces, even in a venue such as this, may indeed be important, sacred work, because in these stories, God meets us. We listen to our life and hear God. ~Ann VoskampI cannot roll over and turn my back anymore.
Thank you for still being here, for not giving up on this mess, even when she has nothing she is willing to say. Thanks for listening as I listen, that together, we might hear God.