Saturday, September 18, 2010

The beauty of being broken is that the repair job is amazing.

By far my biggest challenge in my amazing walk with Christ has been my habit of picking men who ignore me in one way or another [daddy issues, yes I know... I'm a work in progress]. Having a presence in my life that goes out of their way to make themselves known to me, who actively pursues me, who absolutely NEVER ignores me and makes sure that I realize they are there.... well it's freaky. And sometimes it makes me want to come out of my skin because it is so unknown, so uncomfortable.

No human can fulfill this desire, this desire for completeness, this desire for the trampoline for my falls. I feel so overwhelmed by emotion when I think about the faithfulness of God. I started a Book of Miracles, on the suggestion of a friend, because there are so many clear concrete examples in my life that I hope to never ever forget them.

Perhaps what stuns me the most is the clear communication I get from Him on High. There's really no ambiguity. It's very black and white, with no real wiggle room. I honestly believe it's because I'm so frickin' stubborn that I don't listen until it IS absolutely black and white, no wiggle room. I realize every single time when I'm smacked upside the head who is doing this, where this comes from, why this is happening. I remember when Parke left over a year ago, and the wedding bells crashed, who was doing this. I didn't like the feeling, but I still knew that this was supposed to happen. I fought it, for five months..... but I still knew, deep down, that we weren't supposed to get married, I just couldn't admit it because my ego was too wrapped up in this "perfect" guy and his perfect family. I have come to the realization that the love I felt from his family kept me going far longer than our relationship actually did. Again, still seeking to fill that huge void, that black hole in my soul. Freedom is painful as hell.... I won't lie. The process of rending is like having your soul ripped out through your bellybutton. Sometimes you hurt so bad, all you can do is run away from polite civilization, up into the mtns and the trees, and pound and scream your fury and your hurt broken heart out into a tree.... something that won't break from your rage, your fury. Last year I did that more times than I can recount, in the midst of running back into his arms. [I did mention that I am stubborn...] Finally I couldn't stand the running. I gave in. I surrendered. On my knees, broken, sundered.

The beauty of being broken is that the repair job is amazing. The cracks still exist, that's called learning experiences. Much like my tattoos... all incredibly hard lessons to have learned, but beyond valuable to my growth and the state of my being, my soul. Much like my absolute adoration of crows feet, and scars on people. They tell a story, much like music does. I adore my scars and my silvers and my crows feet.... they say that a person has lived. The LIVING IS WHAT MATTERS. Obey without freaking question, and you are amply rewarded, rewarded beyond measure. I cannot explain this enough, with clarity for those with ears to hear. I heard it repeatedly before I finally got it. But.... I got it.

Just Breathe..... and let go. Fly.

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