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2011 was the most painful year of my life hands down.
Composed on the outside
but my insides were just a big ball of heartache.
I came to the conclusion that if I truly let my heart feel all the
pain, sorrow and hopelessness that I encountered…
I would seriously implode and die.
Melt away.
Looking back it’s obvious that the Lord took over me and did work.
There’s no way I would’ve survived on my own even for a second.
Every three to four weeks we hopped from culture to culture like it was normal.
I found myself blotting out the pain that I had endured the month before
in order to stay focused in the current month.
So, I chose not to deal.
I chose not the miss.
I chose not to feel.
I chose not to cry.
I secretly tried not to love.. but it was impossible.
For 11 whole months I tried to protect myself.
Guard my heart from all the infectious emotional pain I endured.
The only problem with the mindset is that it didn’t stop.
I got home at the end of November and
my heart instantly saw it as a new month.
I hopped immediately into the culture…
protecting my heart from the pain that I had seen and felt the months before…
and diving head first into making the American culture my focus.
I have had my moments that I have reminisced on the year…
Prayed for faces in particular,
and secretly wept into my pillow for the lost souls I have encountered,
but for the most part I keep it all in the back of my mind.
It’s extremely hard to talk about it all.
It’s hard to comprehend that i even experienced half the things…
and if I can’t comprehend them myself, how on earth am I supposed to vocalize them?
I miss my street boys like nobodys business yet…
yet I am more worried about American boys attention than interceding for them.
I am well aware that my Swazi babies eat less than 10 cents of food a day…
yet It is easy for me to drop $20 on a meal that doesn’t begin to satisfy.
I know of the girls around the world that are forced to prostitute their bodies nightly…
yet I am caught up in who thinks I’m a beautiful based on the worlds standards.
I know the Lord is the only thing that will ever satisfy me…
yet I whorishly pursue anything but the attention of my one true Lover.
I know the Lord has plans for my life that I cannot even comprehend…
yet I find it necessary to manipulate and plan out my life myself.
Lord, It blows my mind yet again that…
you’ll take such a measly little sinner such as me
and call me your bride.
That you never ever stop pursuing me
even when I run away like Hoseas wife…
Even when I cheat on you like David did…
Even when I spit on your grace daily like Israel…
Even when I run in the opposite direction like Jonah…
Even when I convince myself that i’m not worthy and run…
Even when I choose to betray you in fear that I’m not good enough…
You forcefully pursue me.
You see my sick ways and just whisper that you
don’t care.
That even if I cheat, run and betray… You are still there.
That You aren’t afraid to brutally fight for me.
That even with my bruises and torn clothes and tired eyes
I am still the most beautiful thing in your eyes.
That I am redeemed.
Basically, Lord, I think you’re psychotic.
I can’t comprehend You.
But I’m okay with that.
I surrender to you because that’s all I can do.
I’m done running.
I’m done spitting.
I’m done pretending.
I’m done cheating.
I’m yours.
Composed on the outside
but my insides were just a big ball of heartache.
I came to the conclusion that if I truly let my heart feel all the
pain, sorrow and hopelessness that I encountered…
I would seriously implode and die.
Melt away.
Looking back it’s obvious that the Lord took over me and did work.
There’s no way I would’ve survived on my own even for a second.
Every three to four weeks we hopped from culture to culture like it was normal.
I found myself blotting out the pain that I had endured the month before
in order to stay focused in the current month.
So, I chose not to deal.
I chose not the miss.
I chose not to feel.
I chose not to cry.
I secretly tried not to love.. but it was impossible.
For 11 whole months I tried to protect myself.
Guard my heart from all the infectious emotional pain I endured.
The only problem with the mindset is that it didn’t stop.
I got home at the end of November and
my heart instantly saw it as a new month.
I hopped immediately into the culture…
protecting my heart from the pain that I had seen and felt the months before…
and diving head first into making the American culture my focus.
I have had my moments that I have reminisced on the year…
Prayed for faces in particular,
and secretly wept into my pillow for the lost souls I have encountered,
but for the most part I keep it all in the back of my mind.
It’s extremely hard to talk about it all.
It’s hard to comprehend that i even experienced half the things…
and if I can’t comprehend them myself, how on earth am I supposed to vocalize them?
I miss my street boys like nobodys business yet…
yet I am more worried about American boys attention than interceding for them.
I am well aware that my Swazi babies eat less than 10 cents of food a day…
yet It is easy for me to drop $20 on a meal that doesn’t begin to satisfy.
I know of the girls around the world that are forced to prostitute their bodies nightly…
yet I am caught up in who thinks I’m a beautiful based on the worlds standards.
I know the Lord is the only thing that will ever satisfy me…
yet I whorishly pursue anything but the attention of my one true Lover.
I know the Lord has plans for my life that I cannot even comprehend…
yet I find it necessary to manipulate and plan out my life myself.
Lord, It blows my mind yet again that…
you’ll take such a measly little sinner such as me
and call me your bride.
That you never ever stop pursuing me
even when I run away like Hoseas wife…
Even when I cheat on you like David did…
Even when I spit on your grace daily like Israel…
Even when I run in the opposite direction like Jonah…
Even when I convince myself that i’m not worthy and run…
Even when I choose to betray you in fear that I’m not good enough…
You forcefully pursue me.
You see my sick ways and just whisper that you
don’t care.
That even if I cheat, run and betray… You are still there.
That You aren’t afraid to brutally fight for me.
That even with my bruises and torn clothes and tired eyes
I am still the most beautiful thing in your eyes.
That I am redeemed.
Basically, Lord, I think you’re psychotic.
I can’t comprehend You.
But I’m okay with that.
I surrender to you because that’s all I can do.
I’m done running.
I’m done spitting.
I’m done pretending.
I’m done cheating.
I’m yours.
