Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Misphah and Shen. He named it Ebenezar, saying , "Thus far the Lord has helped us." 1 Samuel 7:12

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

It Began From...

*this is from years ago-a past journal entry from when I was struggling with a pit I called home

I gasp for a breath.
Just one.
Just one breath is all I need.
To live.
My life , where has it gone?
How did I end up here? Alone yet surrounded by people, surrounded by everyone who thinks they know me- but have no clue.
I walk around, not wanting to be someone I'm not, just not being all I am.

A lie is best hidden between two truths. My reality is hidden between the other truths of my life.

I made the choice before.

I stepped out of my pit.

The air is so much fresher out there. Cleaner. Brighter. Bluer. With white puffy clouds and flowers that smell.

I did it again.

I jumped.
Back into my pit.

I learned early to hide it form the world. To show it only to those who accept others for who they truly are. or so I think.

This jump was fueled by happiness. It threw me off. In the past it's been the pain, the suffering, the rejection that was my springboard. This time it was happiness. or so I thought.

I just need to breath.

I need to breath.

I need more than a breath. A breath only lasts so long down here before my lungs can't take it- I sit gasping...

The walls of this pit are damp and the air is thick. Breathing it is hard- not fresh.
The pictures and walls were suppose to comfort me, I've tried to make this place seem like home. The comfort of being here itches away at me as I claw and dig to get out. I fail.

There's a hand.

A nail scarred hand.

It's grabbed for me before. I've reached before. It scares me.

If I chose it, it'll be hard.
My wounds will be opened. Exposed.

The bandages I've used to covers my wounds are ready to be changed. The pain oozes out, the blood seeps through-

I'm tired of changing the bandages- each time I'm faced with the pain it never looks any different. What I'm doing isn't working.

Grab My hand. Find comfort in My arms.

God often speaks most clear to me when I'm down here. I fear I will not hear Him when I leave.

Lame excuse.

It's time.

Expose the wounds and let the true Healer do His part.

Stop hiding. Start breathing.

Get out of this miry pit. The air is fresh, the skies blue, the flowers - oh the flowers. The are life. They are a gift God put outside my pit to make me smile, to show me His unfailing love.

I'll take Your hand Lord. I'm ready for the process to begin.


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