Well now.
I haven't written much of anything for months. Maybe because I've been tired. Maybe because I work so much. Maybe because I'm afraid I don't write anything much worth reading. I've seen and read so much loveliness, and I'm ashamed of myself, my own banality.
Which is silly. I've come this far, surpassed myself in so many ways. I shouldn't be cowed, but encouraged.
But I've been cleaning house. Doing the dangerous deed of sorting through what I've collected in nearly twenty-two years, and throwing away bits of my past.
An awful drawing. A scribble of word on a page. Frustrations I used to have, wishes I used to make, hopes I used to hold. One by one, laid on the throw pule. Laid, because crumpling them up and throwing is still too painful.
Who was she, the me of six years ago? The cripplingly shy social outcast who told herself it didn't matter? Because it doesn't--not much, at least. Not enough to wish I could do it over. But why do those days seem so much simpler?
"Why does the past always seem safer?
Maybe because at least we know we made it..."
~Chris Rice, "8th Grade"
I think that's it right there, but I wish I could convince myself that tomorrow is just as important, even if it isn't safe, or even guaranteed.
Today clings to me, though. Its fingers are those of regret and emptiness. They're usually worst around 11:53 pm, when tomorrow is finally reaching out for me, promising that it'll be different, and new.
It is a strange thing, to know, but not to be convicted and convinced by that knowledge. To be renewed in my mind and transformed from glory to glory seems too good to be true, and yet I desperately need for it to be so.
God help me, in my weak, emotional, human estate. I need and crave the newness You endow. I am so much more than poor, but I am lowly, and dim in spirit. I crave Your Spirit as the barren ground craves rain and growth. I want to grow, to become more than what I am, bit the attainment of such a state is so far beyond me, I can scarcely relinquish my doubt.
Be my light, incomprehensible by darkness, infinite and everlasting.
~Fumble
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