I found myself doing it again–contriving a blog post on a musing of life when I felt a slight cringe underneath the surface.
I can’t do this. I cannot write another post omitting the mess from my mess.
I need to write where I am right now.
Truth be told, I am a mess on multiple fronts.
I am afraid. Yes, afraid. Afraid that maybe my husband might not make it through this cancer, and I am overwhelmed at the thought. So, I dismiss it as best as I can by avoidance, dismissal, an extra glass of wine, a smile, sleep, work, running, etc.
I feel like a hypocrite ministering to adults and children all the while seeing my very own stumble onto the broad path.
I am frustrated by rejection with my church. Why won’t they respond with a formal rejection letter? Isn’t this the proper response to someone’s request for employment?
I am angry at someone (you know who you are). When I shared of Hubby’s cancer, you didn’t blink an eye, or say a word for that matter. No, not one. I feel like a lost sheep scattering about in furor without a shepherd.
I am discouraged that over half of my life was wasted in the vain attempt to please others, so to be liked, and while I succeeded, I’ve felt the fraud of self.
I am not proud of my issues. I wrestle with my thoughts. I hope to learn and live better because of them.
I wonder though, if I miss the purpose of writing.
To write where I am.
In the midst of this mess called life.
I came across and interesting side-note today while reading about the Pharisees and the adulterous woman debacle–
(The earliest manuscripts do not include 7:53-8:11)
Why was this scandalous passage omitted from the original text?
Was it too raw for the earliest readers to digest?
I don’t know.
But, it is here, in the midst of the mess, that I wish to sit.
The places I do not desire to document are perhaps the exact places I need to delve. (If not, I will delete this post from all existence :))
A Messy Child of God