Home Sweet Home

I struggle deciding which I love the most: reading or writing.

Reading takes me away. I lose myself and someone else’s world surrounds me. Relating to the characters, depending on the story, and not knowing how it ends. It’s extremely exciting.

Writing is a glimpse into MY soul. It brings me out into the open. Vulnerable. My sense of humor, my perspective, whatever wisdom (or lack thereof) I choose to share with everyone. I’m much more guarded. I see before me a skeleton, the framework, and I fill in the rest. The meat and the outward appearance. I decide how it ends. It’s enthralling.

It’s much easier for me to read. It’s what I do the most of the two.

When I want to hide, I read. But then… it happens! That moment when I’m finally tired of hiding and I want to explore and share. I run out, confident that I can contribute something that will benefit a reader. Whether it’s funny or meaningful. An analogy. A spontaneous exhale, getting it off my chest. An update on my life. A moment. A thought. An event.

Today, it’s the smell on my shirt.

My mixed feelings. How happy I am, yet my feet are so firmly planted on the ground. How my heart still winces.

My walls are sky high, yet this managed to stick to me. This smell on my shirt, from one brief, awkward hug.

Now it’s lingering, against my will. It makes me face it. Forgiveness. Can I forgive and push away at the same time?

Can I say “it’s alright” but avoid it all? Does it count? Is it fair that I’m relieved it’s almost over? That I can go home soon and change shirts and put this in the wash and never deal with it again? All this makes me think. What’s the outcome for me, God?

Does forgiveness make everything new? Yours does. Why is my human forgiveness so handicapped? Why doesn’t it erase the past? Why doesn’t it promise a bright future? Why doesn’t it ease the present? It’s easier to let it all go, say “it’s alright” when there are no constant reminders.

Forgiveness is looking at a pile of rubble and saying “home sweet home.” It’s a radical, drastic change inside of me. My change of perception. How I feel about something which may or may not be deserving, repenting, or regretful.  It may promise a repeat. Regardless, you absolve it. You forgive the past, the present, and the future. But should it be allowed this close ever again? God, how do You allow me to be this close again? How am I not repulsive? How can You love me so much?! Your ways are so much higher than my ways. Your thoughts are so much higher than mine. How do I make sense of all this? Why am I being exposed to this? Help me to be gracious and patient. Help me not to wish I could run away. Work in my heart. This is a change that needs to come from your handiwork. This is a gift only You can give me, a pure forgiveness. Frankly I could go get a lobotomy and try to erase all the trigger points. But what good would that do for Your glory?

Even in my agony, I want to glorify You. I want to do what pleases You. Guide me.

Who has two thumbs and is a work in progress? *points to herself with thumbs* THIS GIRL.