God, I think everything will be okay.


Thanks.

i'm running and i know it. i'm fine with running for now.

God. I am trusting in your quiet, peaceful, reassurance that everything will be....more than okay. That everything will be excellent.

I am feeling so torn between you three. I love you all so much and I don't want to choose. Sometimes I don't call or talk to anyone because I'm afraid that I'll offend one of you. I'm all alone and I can't deal with it anymore.
I love you Sherlock, WWI and WWII but...I don't know what to do. I don't want to fight between you guys anymore, and I don't want to leave.

Clothe me in humility...

"What makes you think I'll be able to make friends? What makes you think I'll even be able to breathe out there?..."
The wind whispered around the trees, the sun cascading a brilliant sea of colors around every sort of shadow dancing in the door frames. A lawn mower broke through concentration and the constant screams of children bring her in and out of her debated self brooding of misery. She speaks, a soft voice breaking through the brash arrangement of furniture and silence,
"What makes you assume that I can make it through these next few days, these next few hours? God, are you even listening?"
She's pacing back and forth on the wooden floors. The groan and creaks of each step make her more anxious, more afraid of the words that are to come, or the silence. She's drawing pictures of stick figure masterpieces on the walls, listening to the clock tick, tock, tick, tock...waiting. Just waiting. And this waiting is making her mad with anticipation. Bringing her to a breaking discovery that she is going to have to surrender in humility.
"Why can't you just speak to me? Lord, I just want a word of affirmation. I'm so afraid. How will I know if this move is what I'm suppose to do. It's so far away, so firm and ending once I get there. I feel like it's a place I cannot leave, I won't be coming back...Everyone is telling me that it will be beautiful and a fresh start, that I will fall in love with the scenery and the people, but why would I want to leave? What reason to I have to go except your gentle push, the persuasive voice coming from my family. I know you've heard me mutter under my breath how I feel, but Dad, I hate this. I really do...Do you care?..."
She fights change. She fights the movement of difference, and yet, what is she to do when God calls her to a different place.
No one believes it's the right decision. Her friends are all pleading with her to stay but God has aligned each and every step she is to go, with on foot in front of the other.

...Clothe me in humility, remind me that I come before a King. He is seated on a throne of gold, dressed in white. Clothe me in humility, so I won't have to face my Father. The eyes of one who knows, but isn't disappointed. Clothe me in humility...

no. i'm not okay.

Peace

Peace is the reassurance of knowing that God has a plan, that you are in it, and that you know you can wait for him to show you your future with patience: no anxiousness.

Peace is knowing that he knows and hurts for you

and knowing that what you're doing is right.

Peace is knowing that he is just when the world is not.

That is peace.

I can't deal.

I can't deal with this...anymore. I can't deal with the fact that I don't have you to hug. I can't see you in the middle of the week, with the face that I want to. You are able to resist my smile and my hugs. I can't deal with the fact that when I move there will be no more chances. I can't deal with the fact that It'll be over once I move, for good. You won't look my way ever again and I can't deal with that. You have the ability to smile on a bad day and fake your sincerity but I know that it isn't true. I miss you. I miss your laughter and your smile. This is the plea of a friend who's walked for miles just to see your smile again, just to feel the peace in your arms, just to hear your comforting words again. This is the cry of a child, wanting to become more to her brother than he has ever wanted, wanting to be more than just the little one. This is the scream of a daughter, wishing that I was more than just a pawn, wishing that I had more talent, more smiles to make you proud. This is the wish of a broken heart. I can't deal with this anymore.

-I want to be loved, and have love but not just that romantic kind either.

I want to love you my friend, my parents, my family. I want to be here...but how can I?

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”

"Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind."

"God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing."

C.S. Lewis

I'm afraid.
I'm afraid that when I'm up in the late night that I won't be able to call anyone.
I'm afriad that I'll be sitting alone every day, putting on a face of charade.
This panic plantaid that keeps me breathing in smiles of faith,
I can't create anything more than these unblemished words.
I'm afraid that I won't have anywhere to call home and that tomorrow will be a yester-year away.
This breathe is not my own, neither are these steps.
I'd like to resist the constant stream of tears, but sadly enough, being screened out by fears.
Each day defines my steps,
Each smile defines-these 17 days-each blink of an eye-these nights.
I'm afraid I will be all alone.
A few studdering moments, and this day shall be yours.
Lord I'm giving you my heart, my soul and everything in.
I'm afraid of leaving everything I've ever known.
I'm afraid of being lost.
But most of all I think I seem to fear the broken.
I fear being broken...being unalarmed, being unalive.

Sherlock

Sherlock,
This is your superior, Watson, speaking. We need to set some ground rules here. In no time are you allowed to call yourself fat or I will have to poke your ovaries with a needle. We need a plan, quick time. And Sherlock, stop trying to solve the case of life. It'll never work. The big guy upstairs works in mysterious ways, and...man, is he a mystery we might never be able to concur. But Sherlock...I think we need to start earning some money for that vacation of ours to Boston Collage. Let's write out the plan.
Over and Out.
-Watson.

:)

"Tell me, hug me and wisper in my ear
grab my hand.
Touch my shoulder, look into my eyes
anything."

This was said to me and it is honastly the funnest thing I've ever heard. Don't think about it in the context that you would normally.

I'm so sick of love songs and so tired of tears.
So done with wishing you were still here.

I'm so sick of hearing everything about couples.
I'm sick of others cuddling on couches while I sit off to the side.
I'm tired of pretending it doesn't bother me that my whole family and every one of my friends have "guy" stories or are dating someone.
I have no reason to be sick of this...but I am.
God will provide for every one of my needs,
I know this.
I know he's going to fill the void of not having someone there while everyone I know does...
But while they are with the people they love, who do I have on this earth?

Past my Norm.

"So stand in the rain,
Stand your ground.
Stand up when it's all crashing down.
If you stand through the pain,
You won't drown
And one day whats lost can be found.
You stand in the rain"

Today I went past my norm. Past my shield of concience safety. Past my protective helmet...and into the open of fear. I've always been told it feels good to do what you love, So why does this suck so much?

I sang at a coffee shop tonight-My dream. I sang and a played guitar...and I did my best. I shook with fear, I stumbled with shadows of doubt, and I played on. I played with my heart on my sleeve, and the ability for everyone to percieve who I am. I played for my Dad, and I played for me.

But...I feel so insignificant. She played after me and it was as though I couldn't compare. She's going back and it's as if I don't dare play again. I'm afraid that once again I will go below the level of "goodness" that I should be at...And my God, he gave me this talent but I can't seem to begin to achieve what I should. I played for him and I feel so...small, useless, unworthy, second-best, miserable about the whole experience because I know that she did better.

I went past my norm. I sang by myself, and if it's something to feel proud about, why do I feel so sad?

Today is good day, day. Which means...If you don't feel like it's been a good day, make it one. So there.

Freedom

Copyright 2009 JesusBranded

Be free from the things that are keeping you captive. Be freed from your fears, and your guilt.
Be free.
Freedom.