Dear God,
I suppose you can see by now that I try pretty hard. Its difficult when I want things so bad, but I can’t quite make them happen. I feel like I get close, but I don’t ever arrive. I’m not sure that getting close is a good thing in the end if you never achieve. I wonder if I am capable of real change. People tell me that I have changed, that I have come so far. Last month my team began to tell me that I am gentle. This month they say that I truly am gentle. Its funny how you live up to what you are called. In a way I suppose I am more gentle, because they told me I was.
Dear God,
In this moment I am imagining the tongues of mankind, they are brushes full of paint just spitting onto canvas. The canvas is the heart of men. As the words are written the heart conforms to the image. Then as the heart conforms so follows the man. The brushes are painting the lives in which they will live.
Dear God,
I want to speak, I want to paint my picture. But I came to the other side of the world to change, not to keep painting on my canvas. Do you remember a few months back when you told me to “stop talking?” Yeah, at the time I didn’t fully understand. But I am starting to. Here’s my brush…
Dear God,
I am listening.
