The rains moved through around 5:30 this morning, awakening me with their callous cadence on the roof. I lay still, eyes wide open, pondering. We talk, He and I, of the warmth of friendship, the regret of some words, the joy of others, and the insensitivity of a dip made with dairy products. Why do I always screw up?
All the while the rain thrums.
I rise to see, He knows how I love the rain. And the sun comes. I smile.
He never does it the way I think He should; this giving of gifts. But still, He knows the desires of my heart better than I.
Do I dare to trust Him?
I believe that all things move according to His plan. That He knows all things before they unfold before my eyes.
He is moving us in a new direction. And it frightens me. It saddens me.
Still, I trust.
My trust does not look like the trust of others.
I question. I cry out. I thrash about with indecision.
But I never let go of His hand.
This is where my heart is: in His hands. I cannot take it back anymore than I can command my lungs to stop breathing this air around me.
He is part of me now.
Sometimes I long to separate. To pretend I don’t know He is there. To hold on to my flesh and run wild into this world.
When I was a little girl I would pretend to be a wife; a mother…cradling my baby doll close in my arms. Protecting her.
But I am not a little girl any longer. I am a wife. I am a mother. I want to hold my loved ones close and protect them.
Protect them from Him?
From what He requires?
I wonder why these things evoke such a melancholy view from within my heart. It is an adventure. It is a new beginning. It is exciting.
But the little girl who pretended only always wanted to belong. To have a family, to be loved.
This struggle need not be so difficult.
He takes me where I belong.
I will follow…