I feel bad.
I am a real loving person, or at least I think I am.
I can't help but hurt when I begin to make up a story for the scraggly looking person walking barefoot on the side of the road,
I want to talk with, gently touch and love on the homeless in my neighborhood.
when my sister shows up at church all strung out on drugs I get angered.
I feel very little, if any, compassion.
I feel frustrated,
When others hear her story, see her sick in the bathroom and inform me of her condition I look at them with no emotion;
I shrug my shoulders and shake my head.
"How can you help someone who doesn't want help"
I feel as though it is not our burden to bear anymore.
Not my burden anymore.
We've allowed her to live in our home,
driven her to appointments,
lent her our car,
moved her belongings,
checked her in to rehab-- several times,
supported her recovery,
been her birthing coach,
loved her through her messes.
What to do?
I am frustrated when I don't see my children or my close friends extend love and yet I am just as guilty--
and I hate it.
Sickened by it.
I want to reach out to her,
I've just seen this section of her path many times before;
I've seen where it leads.
Pain in her eyes.
Deceit from her lips.
Truth in her words.
A baby is coming for her in a few months and she is homeless.
Stolen from loved ones,
This battle for love rages in my heart for her.
For now I can just simply pray.
Prayer changes things.
This is not bigger than God.
Nothing is bigger than God.
I know I've lived through it myself.
I am free now.
15 years of it and I am free!
A glimmer of hope for her.
May she see that glimmer too.
May I pray for her,
and if your heart feels it may you pray for her.
that can only come through Jesus Christ.
He came out of that tomb so she could live
so she can see free and clear!
Errr... how I hate this struggle of mine.
How I love the ability to call on Jesus.
Trying to walk this thing out-