herlucidlife

In my last post, I said I didn’t know the safety of true commitment but that’s a lie. God is deeply committed to me everyday and I never have to worry about him leaving. He never breaks a promise. I know deep in my bones I will not leave God. Getting baptized at twelve, it may have been the start of my salvation but it was not the start of sanctification. That road began years later at the age of twenty-nine. I worked the night shift at Whole Foods and slept the whole day until it was time for work.

Doing my best to focus on God. I often wonder if I would be satisfied with God if He never gives that marriage I desire. Walking into the job, morale was low. Mood shifted, my usual eye candy was not available. A little crush has developed, the thing is crushes usually crush me. I don’t like forbidden fruit so there’s another piece I don’t allow myself to indulge in. It’s sad when God has done so much for me then I allow the reality of being single to shift my focus from great to worse. I feel unwell. Washing dishes feeling the cold water splash up from the sink. My mind was swimming with thoughts I wanted to cry but dry.

At work team members popping in and out of the dish pit. I had half a mind to drown myself in the sink to shut my mind off. My heart hurts like a bad car accident on a dark Tuesday night. No one there to give aid, just the blaring of the horn and an unrecognized bloodied body. Hurt with Abba in the car. I could tell He felt my pain, confusion and utter yearning for an answer…any kind or amount of understanding will do. Some days are harder than others, it’s never too far from my mind. With all the gratitude in my heart, the amazement of what God is doing in my life, this spot still hurts like a thorn in my side. Can’t touch it or look at it too long, I may lose my mind.

I thought I knew where to go to find love. I stopped looking at guys in the world because nothing good came from it. Began praying for a godly man thinking perhaps at church, for it to end in ruins. Sometimes it feels like a bad comedy central joke. Why is the egg always on my face? Am I the main ingredient to this broken omelet? I probably sound over dramatic but have mercy nothing is more dramatic than a broken heart yearning for any resemblance of what love could look like. These dead ends have me questioning what’s wrong with me. My picker must be broken. Perhaps myself and the Holy Spirit got our signals crossed when He said steer clear and I went for it anyway. Or was I acting out a fantasy that was never true to begin with?

I don’t know anything anymore.