Life hurts. Nothing really profound in that statement, just writing it based on recent events. I have a terrible tendency to hold things in and allow them to stew. It reminds me of my mom's early years with a pressure cooker. I don't know what she did wrong, but she would begin cooking something in her cooker and within thirty minutes we would hear the deafening sound of catastrophe in the kitchen. Our kitchen ceiling bore the marks of many cooker recipes that shot straight upwards through that little spout on top of the cooker.
That is me, the pressure cooker. We were taught to hold things in, not actually instructed to, but children learn by watching and experimenting. This is a lesson I wish I had avoided, but unfortunately I've carried it into my grown up years.
Of all my lacking in character, this is the one I don't want to pass to this precious bunch of five He's given me. I want them to live in freedom, speak freely without apprehension, speaking boldly what is right.
I am not so bold nor so free. My staying quiet over a period of time has consequences that are costly, consequences I bring on myself. Eventually the pressure intensifies to a degree that I spout off and leave marks, not on the kitchen ceiling, but on everyone who's in hearing distance. My regrets come when I realize I should have spoken to someone about the aggravation that was growing, but I didn't. My words are of no effect, but to confuse and disturb. My solution? I'm no hero, I plan to run in the opposite direction. Not in an effort to hide, but more in realization that I am poison to people and need not speak anymore or I'll spread more grief.
Lessons never stop in life. I stay too long in some places where I hope to belong eventually, places where I see others trying to belong too, but then they disappear without a word. As I enter their same abyss, I understand where they went...in search of the place where they do belong. Sometimes in the most well meaning of places people segregate themselves, others cannot force their way in so they walk. I had hoped to be stronger and always stay and hold a spot whether invited in or not, but I am not a strong one and my staying so long has been more out of protest than truly wanting to fellowship. So my guilt lands heavy on me now, guilt for wrong motives, staying for the wrong reasons and not being a vessel of love myself.
I am ever thankful that the "feeble" still have a place in His plan.
Angel....I hear your heart....I hear it and I dearly love your honesty, your depth. Not only do the "feeble" have a place in His plan, so do the weak, the strong, the quiet, the loud, the sinner, the saint, the popular, the unpopular, the beautiful, the ugly, the intelligent, the ignorant and all of those in between. YOU are loved dear friend, by me and most certainly by our Savior. I am so thankful YOU are a part of my world. I love you.
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