The Walk Begins

I wrote this a few nights ago. This was the turning point in my life. I think for the past 3 years I’ve been slowly building up this supressed anger at myself. Up untill  I left school I’d been a ‘good’ christian for the past 5 years. I had gotten through the high school years which are supposed to be the most difficult and then everything just went to pieces. This was my floodgate moment though, once I had let out all this anger and hurt at myself I was able to being sorting out my relationship with God (who turns out to be far less distant than I had led myself to believe up untill recently). 

I’m not sure if enjoy is the right sentiment but for want of a better one please read on.

In which twisted and perverse universe did I allow my family to become “those people I don’t speak to anymore?” When did life become about where I am going instead of who’s coming with me? I go to bed every night craving someone, anyone to be there and tell me that it’s okay and it will all look better in the morning. I look out my window and up at the stars and cry knowing that no amount of wishes, dreams or bittersweet memories will hide the fact that one by one I have pushed away from me all of the people in this world who made the journey into this great unknown that they call life bearable.

Sometimes when the sun is bright and there is no-one home I like to pretend that everything is the way it is supposed to be and I’m just waiting for everyone to come back and for us to pick up from where we left off. If I believed in answered prayers I would spend every waking hour sending up petitions to that hollow voice above the clouds begging for some sort of sign that I’m not all alone on this cursed mortal coil. He told me that he loved me and would never leave me and that in my hour of darkness I would fear no evil. He said that he had more wonders planned than my girlish dreams could possibly comprehend. He promised me a man who would love both me and him and that we would live happily ever after.

After I toss and turn myself into an exhausted sleep night after night I wonder what I dream. Do I secretly wish for things to remain as they are so that I can foster my bitter resentment toward that hollow voice above the clouds? Or do I whisper soft words of love to the eternal father who’s love, acceptance and forgiveness I craves more than the strongest drug or the wildest high? What if after the world goes to sleep and my consciousness fades I just float in darkness? What if I have crushed my ability to dream, to wish, to imagine? After all every time I sit down to write , to do something that three years ago came as naturally to me as breathing I come up against row after row of brick walls.

Maybe He gave me my joy on loan, like a library book and now it’s overdue so he’s taken it back like a bookie reclaims from his debtors… Maybe there wasn’t enough room left in the book of life for another happily every after. Maybe when he was writing my story he wanted to make just one tragedy amidst the pages of happy endings and dream come trues. What if he forgot to write me in so he’s decided just to sit back and see what I make of it. I have done so many things that never should have happened. So many times I picked the wrong path because I pushed away all of the people that could have told me which paths to choose. Two roads diverged in a wood and I decided to beat my way through the wilderness just because I wanted to prove to the world that I could. Turns out I couldn’t. Now like a lost child I have been forced to wander for 40 days and 40 days and 40 days until I either accidentally stumble back onto the right path or I give up and let the undergrowth grow over me until I am just a memory of a girl that never was, but could have been.

From my lonely little corner I will be forced to sit, and wait while every other girl is asked to dance. Every other girl will be offered the life of their dreams because they were brave enough to ask for help; to admit that they were wrong and tell the people that matter most that without them they are only a shell of the person that they could be.

So again I ask… In which twisted, demented, deceptive universe did I allow all of these unmentionable things to happen? Why didn’t I see that as I made my own patchwork quilt of life, memories and hopes for the future, that I was sewing with the scraps of what I used to wish, dream and pray for back when life, love and my surety of the ever after made sense. My God my God why have you forsaken me? Even that is a lie, because as sure as no man will ask me to dance, Jesus is sitting across the room crying because when he asked, I told him no.

While I am still struggling with many aspects of Christian living and I have lots of bad habits to break I am in a better place to be able to deal with the darts of the enemy. Fighting alongside God instead of against God is always going to be easier. He is a loving God despite the tests he sets for us. I know that from these years in the dark I will appreciate the light so much more. This is a wonderful gift we have and something not to be taken lightly. I wont be doing so again.

2 thoughts on “The Walk Begins

  1. Darling – I LOVE YOUR WRITING! and more than that I love you and love reading about your journey… 🙂 You are incredibly amazing and I know that you will listen to what He’s saying to choose the right path. Prov 3:5-6…. and so much more 🙂 I love you. Never let go.

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