I keep hearing.
I keep hearing from people that they’ve lost hope. That they’re fed up and won’t take it anymore. That they don’t care about the consequences and the shit. Just angry. And bitter. And hateful. And more. That there must be no logic, order, or God in it all. It sounds like the ugly bit of Dee Schneider in all of our souls that wants to rock out and have big hair and not give a fuck about it all.
*note to you* In a little bit, you’ll look back at yourself and realize how utterly stupid you look.
I find that the times that are the hardest and the most painful, the ones where we feel the most loss, and the most passion, are those that bring us closer to God and more palpably, and obviously, closer to each other. Is there not love between those around you now, when you feel the most trembling shudders of loss? Is there not a bit of holiness in each moment of love shared between your tender ones?
I’m just a little girl. I can’t see things so well in the macro. I do my best within my little world to make things right for me. To do the right things. To be good to people, and to appreciate and thank those that are good to me. I pray. I kiss the skies and I kiss boys. I laugh hard, and I cry often. I shake my head at things. I get myself in trouble too easily. But I know without doubt that God exists and loves me. And whatever happens, good and bad, it is by his will. It’s never easy to accept, but one really doesn’t have much choice in it, does one?
I got my copy of “The God Who Won’t Let Go” By Peter Van Breeman, the same author who wrote “As Bread That Is Broken” which I’ve referred to in the past as the book that both broke my brain, and reaffirmed my simple but deep faith. Be afraid to read it. Because everyone is afraid of change.
I’m just in Chapter 1 of TGWWLG.: “Wait for Me”
I’m reconfirmed in my faith that things happen for a reason. In their time. And that there is love, and tenderness in each step. No matter how hard it seems now. One step more. One step more.
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