I reach out, I touch, I sense, I feel. I cry, I trust that my feelings will be held in the space and valued. I open my heart slowly and deliberately, sharing my secrets, my faults, my shit. Talking about my passions, my dreams, my hopes.
While asking God that I stay connected enough to see past me, to reach out and touch and hold and see past outward walls and barriers.
At times screaming in the pain of releasing my stuff, things I believe essential to my survival and learning the only thing I need is Him.
Thinking I’ve learned, I have it, I’m there. To fall on my face, seeing me rise up in me, human, failing, self. Crawling back to the place of rest, of peace, of opening myself, my hands, my heart to be what He has called me to become.
Falling, every moment, into waiting arms, strong enough to hold but always willing to let me go. Knowing I am unable, in any way to understand, to get with my self centered mind, this path, the journey, the adventure, and willing to rest, trusting my Maker, fully aware of my humanity and desperateness, with everything I am.
This life, this path, I choose, willing, not being forced or bribed or guilted into, not making excuses for or against, not defending to both friends and passers in my life. Willing to take this path.