Why are these tears surfacing and streaming like beads of water upon a broken windowsill? I don't know what I miss or where my emotions lie. I don't know exactly where my heart desires to place itself, and that really frightens me. I feel so very lost. I know I need something more. Should I settle? Should I pick and pry until things are molded into the ideal shape I've always been after?
My heart...it hurts.
My soul is muddy and confused.
My life is a giant fork in the midst of a vastly spacious road.
And among all of these things, I miss my Creator.
I miss the promise of His word,
though I know it still endures.
Even in blindness.
Tonight's worship was impressive-but more-so, incredibly needed.
My heart has felt such an unnecessary distance lately-surely from keeping itself considerately "busy".
I miss the stillness. The dedication of ceasing activity and stretching out an anxious, passionate ear.
Tonight, I realize that my life is so much more than a sonnet of the self. It is a novel-written and authorized by one much greater than I.
Tonight, I conclude that sincere love can bind up even the deepest and darkest of our wounds.
