Don’t Let Me Down.

It is funny how opposites attract. Really. They do. Often my  friends that I get along with most are the opposite of who I am. That was who Sean was. The opposite. He loved this one song during his healing process journey, and what would I do? I would roll my eyes at it. However, now a different version of someone else sings the same song and yes, I am like a-ha…this is a great song. We were so different….for real opposites. But now this song that ties in the opposites into the positives not that we were ever negatives, but kind of, rings a different meaning. I am not let down by God. I won’t be and I could never be. This song, sung by a different artist, was a huge theme song to Sean during a very difficult time in his life…and now here I am, listening to the very same song, but sung in a different style, saying it to Jesus, come on…don’t let me down, You are so faithful. I know He shows Himself faithful, I know the Scriptures, I am not ignorant, for they have been my food day and night. However isn’t it fascinating one song could mean so much to one individual and and nothing to another until sung in a different way? Sung with a different urgency or passion, or even a different desperateness. However, here I am. Empty. Ready. Determined. Unshakeable. Ready for the darkest process I have yet to encounter. I am not a runner. I never have been. I am all about let’s get down to business….and business is ready to turn my world upside down…but I am here, arms up in surrender. I am ready to get down to business. Jesus, I trust you. Don’t let me down despite the frailties of my mind. You are able and so am I in you. For real. I am now the one in need of a miracle.

Advertisements

Mascara down my face.

Ready? Am I? I don’t know much of much these days, but I hear the question. Ready? Who is it asking me this question? Again, I don’t know. We would often say, ‘It is what it is’, which transformed to a ‘It is what I say it is’, to now a ‘It is what I don’t know what it is.’ I stand expressionless in front of the mirror and habitually reapply the lipstick I feel more comfortable in than in my own skin. Hang up. It is the colour I wear. Hang up. I have been hung up and I have hanged up. The indifference of the emotional with the physical married together with the spiritual has become this outlet passed away with the essence of everything concrete I rested my head on. Am I grounded? Kind of? Am I solid? Maybe? Am I out of control? Have I ever been in control? I question the questions and answer the answers with more questions, because my hands are emptied with only the residue of debris, like gun powder of absolutes I was so certain were the obvious of the obvious. Last night woke me from a reality of a certainty that this seaside view doesn’t come without challenges. I have no strength to fight a good fight and march the grand march, however I do have enough breath to breathe by this fire as I lie my weary soul and bathe in its heat. I have nothing to give. I have preciously nothing. Am I ready to fully walk this walk and talk this talk? Not at all. However, as I bask in the heat from the only who can be trusted, I cannot be moved by this situation. I refuse to be moved by the results of this perfect storm and the devastation brought down on us viciously and without mercy, I just can not be moved. I wipe my eyes with my muddy sleeves and stare the adversary in the face with my limited strength, limited vision, and my limited understanding, with my rouge coloured lips, and continue this undertaking, regardless the cost, oh God, please Lord, show me some mercy.