Thoughts

It is a mystery

November 14, 2009

I am…not.  Far more often than I am.  I find myself weak, confused, confusing and complicated.  When I desire most to be…more. Able.  Competent.

Instead I merely survive.

Have I ever done more than survive?   I’m sure I’ve had glimpses.

I have been broken and shattered into pieces bearing little resemblance to the person I used to be.   The person I want to become.   The person I hoped to have grown into by now.

I have needs.  Desperate needs calling from within me in a language I don’t understand and cannot repeat.  Knowledge of what hunger is cannot be confused with the gnawing, demanding drive to be fed.  But hunger ignored soon fades and I have lost the understanding of it.  The empathy for it.  Especially applied to my own soul.   I do not hunger.   I stolidly follow the path of what I know I should do,  where I know I should go.

I try.   When all else fails, when success isn’t measured in steps but in decisions made and moments embraced I can honestly say that I have continued to try.   To stand up again.  Even when I know I will be broadsided in the attempt.

Somehow.  Some way.   I will stand.

Shored up on every side.  White knuckles,  hands clenched, I remain clinging to a faint promise of someday when I will be more than I am today.

Beyond services rendered,  activities coordinated,  life orchestrated.   When the core of who I am is stronger.  When my spirit is richer and my soul less shredded.

And yet, somehow,  in the state I am in,  without having done a thing to prove my worth I am stunned at the realization that he needs me.

Truly. Needs. Me.

Even as I am.  More than ever before.  With a tenderness, a compassion, and a hope that I cannot deserve or understand.  Or earn.

Dear G-d…

  • Being loved and needed just as we are, in all of our messy UN-glory does stagger the mind, doesn’t it?

  • Being loved and needed just as we are, in all of our messy UN-glory does stagger the mind, doesn’t it?

  • Being loved and needed just as we are, in all of our messy UN-glory does stagger the mind, doesn’t it?