Build your nest near My altar, and I will be your children's source of security, protection, provision and blessing. Psalm 84

Saturday, June 7, 2014

running through my head

Oh the aching feeling I sometimes get when I think back to the past. The ache to change things, spend more time with friends I love, have fewer regrets. And closure. I don't have much of that. I have a very physical sense of heaviness at times. I mean, stop me in my tracks, heavy.  Missed opportunities to say the things I wish I'd said.  And sometimes the memories come so quickly, I lose my footing. I start realizing how quickly time is flying. How the minutes have added up to many years. And I want to revisit the places that became so significant to my present self.  I want to surround myself with the friends that were there and the music that was playing. And when I hear someone is moving or changing or leaving, I can almost not bear it.  I have to propel myself to the here and now and not focus on what lies ahead.  And that's hard. I don't like change and am most comfortable with predictability.  Maybe that is why my relationships sometimes end on a rough note. It's the only way I can part with them.  Sever ties, so heartache won't consume me.  But, it does anyway.  Life is forever moving on and my attempts at stopping it are futile. Worry sets in.  Did I do this all wrong? Does peace exist for even me? Is uneasiness just something that never leaves us? That wakes us from a deep sleep and leaves us piecing back the images? Precious. That is the word that doesn't leave me.  Moments so painful and joyful and lonely and overflowing. They give me that push forward into the unknown. I forgo reliving it all on a daily basis and often can't recall, vividly enough, how I ended up where I am now.  But those unannounced, uninvited moments that come at the most vulnerable times, right when I am waking...those are the hardest and most beautiful of all.

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