I feel like I’ve been walking around in a haze of numbing sickness for weeks. This morning, finally, rising out of the fog. My eyes blinking away the fever induced sleep. Rubbing away the itch and beginning to focus. Relieved to feel my brain functioning for the first time in days. Begin to process, without the thick weight of a migraine, never mind the ass kicking cold I got on top of it. Lame. The entire week all I wanted to do was feel better so I could write. When I found out about my Grandma’s cancer, that feeling multiplied, and I stared at this screen for hours. Wanting it out, anything, please, so I can feel better. It didn’t happen, and my fever just got worse. I had this nagging feeling that something was stirring, and once I found the words, it would all settle. I was right, except for one thing. It would only happen on God’s watch. The shitty thing about that, was this. I was so wrapped up in my dread, sickness, and frustration that being open to God’s word and help was impossible. All I could see was this laptop screen. All I could feel, was urgency to get better. This insatiable desire to be clean and out from under.As much as I’m a Christ Follower, I was still clinging to this instant gratification. Grabbing for it violently, selfishly. If He listened to me, like He says He does, then he’ll help me feel better. He’ll give me the word to soothe and guide me. Especially when I’m on my knees, desperate. When it doesn’t happen, in my weakness, I’ll become hardened, impatient. Hindering my trust in him all the more. Digging a deeper hole. Casting myself farther away. When I was younger, newer in my journey, I would just stay in that place. Abandoned, and deeply hurt. Truly believing that God left me there, from some fault of my own, that I could not overcome. Heart sick for Him, again. Never-ending. Like God and I, have this star-crossed lovers kind of relationship. Always chasing.

It’s really sad actually, and I do imagine, other people feel this way too. So, this is what’s up…what I learned AGAIN this week.

This lesson kinda sucks, honestly.

We are responsible for our own free will. If I come to God in frustration, and leave my heart untouched and closed, all I’m going to receive is just that. Frustration. I’m choosing to come from that place, and to project that on God, in turn, giving me back what I put out. Ya dig?

I used to think, that when I came to Him like this, broken, angry and torn, that it was His responsibility to set me right emotionally. I’m the weak, He’s not. He should do something about this. I can’t feel this way, I’m loosing my mind. I would plead with Him, and get only stillness. Only quiet. I fought, for a long time, the belief, that I had something concrete to do with this. I didn’t want to accept it. This should be easier. Well, friggin’ too bad for me, it’s just not like that. You do have to take responsibility for the agreements you’ve made with yourself. With the circumstances your in. For the feelings inside of your chest, the weight surrounding you. You do have to come to God with a willing heart, no matter the case you’re in. Why? free will. God never said, he’d remove your pain, or suffering, without being willing. To be willing, you must trust. To trust is to have faith, and through faith, you find freedom. You find healing. God can’t just smash through your free will, and do for you what you need, unless you’re willing. If he could, or would for that matter, who would we be? under Him? no one. A person made without the ability to choose, is no longer a person. Take away my free will, and I learn nothing. I experience nothing. I have no purpose, no pulse, no drive. No life. I ‘m certain, when I plead out to Him like that, with a closed heart, using my own free will against myself. It breaks His enormous perfect heart. He wants to lift me up, but only if I let Him. It’s like when my kid is sick,but won’t take his medicine. No matter how much I tell Him it’ll help, and that I’m here for him, he has to want it. He may want my comfort , but he’s gotta get through that Buckley’s first. Ya dig?

I guess for me it means, putting down my blazing guns, and giving Him a chance. Sounds so easy, when I read it here. It’s not. Fear and pain have a way of twisting my heart until it deceives me. A way of planting awful seeds in my mind. Thoughts and agreements that stunt my growth. Severely. It took a lot of strength, prayer and self-awareness, after this week, to even get to a place where I can try and articulate this all to you. I just wanted you to understand, like I understand as of today, again, that God respects and honours the free will He gave us. So much so, that He cannot get between it and, us. It kills Him, but He loves us enough to do what’s best for us. Meaning, even when we think it’s in our best interests, and we’re exhausted, He will still wait patiently until we decide to give it up. Period. Because that’s just how it has to be. He’s not some half-assed parent figuring it out along the way like the rest of us. He’s the perfect parent. Hard to wrap your head around, I know. I may still get pissed off at Him in the future, I’m sure I will, it’s me, ha ha….but, from now on, I want to keep in it clear in my own heart, that He leaves me there, when I won’t choose leave. That’s just the truth. I have to be wise enough to quiet the inner chaos, and just breathe for a minute. Take responsibility even when I feel like a victim, and give it up. Like I said, it’s a shitty lesson, but all in all, it shows how much God values our freedom to choose..and be well, human.

Thank you Father, for honouring me. For letting me choose, even when that choice hurts me. For walking with me patiently, even when I’m hindering my growth and falling victim to my grief. For being there, still, when I wake up, brush the cobwebs from my weary eyes, and finally let go…..where you meet me, with outstretched arms, lavish me in safety and comfort. Proving, yet again, that to be free, I must always be in surrender to you. In this surrender, I can let out that winded sigh of relief.  The one I’ve been craving and chasing after all week…and, I can write again. With all that being said, Father, my request is this. This week, as I continue to wade through my past, and move on with my memoirs, show me Your path. Tell me what to say, because, these entries are more Yours, than they are mine. I’d like to keep it that way.


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