I come home and God and I have freak out sessions late in the night.
Or, I guess I should say, I freak out and God lets me.
Last weekend we sat in leather couches and told of what life means for us now, and how we need prayer.
So in the sunlight I write down the prayer requests and mostly there are words like surrender and unknown, and loss of focus and inside, where they can’t see, I know my selfishness.
I don’t want to hear about surrender and focus and giving up self.
I don’t want to hear about it because I know all about it in my head, but that hasn’t seemed to make any difference.
Letting go. Opening the hands. Surrender.
It has been a life-long, gory battle, and, frankly I just wanted off.
It wouldn’t be such a big deal if it was just one of those spiritual ideas that you can mull over and nothing in the real life of messy rooms and baloney for lunch would be effected.
But you can’t laugh at yourself when you are making fists and if you can’t laugh at yourself you are toast. Or at least I am.
So here I am freaking out and trying to pry open fists while packing for three months and taking final exams
and finding one of my best friends is getting married
and I am too opinionated with my family
and don’t mind me, but I think I’ll just go join a convent and sell hippy buses for a living and wear dragon fly anklets.
Would someone please tell me a good joke
or kiss me
or throw a glass of cold water on my head.
p.s my dear friend Kristin is hosting a lovely giveaway over here!