I am kind of wishing right now that I did a lot of things sorta better then I do. For instance, I wish I woulda slept better last night. It is 6:31 a.m. and my family is sawing logs. I; however, being the rebel that I am, slept exactly one hour and twelve minutes, from 4 (last time I looked at clock) to 5:12 a.m. when Olivia came fussing and thrashing into my bed to ruin my brief respite. I must admit, I took it very well for being a tired woman!
I'm just gonna be honest with my feelings here. I'm not usually very good at being completely honest with how I really feel, so if at any time you would like to look away from my honesty, please go ahead. I will diligently try to post something happy on this poor little blog of mine later in the day. You may want to check back then. So, wishing for my own mental health I was better at being honest, I'm just gonna wear everything on my sleeve for a minute.
I am frustrated.
Frustrated with myself, super frustrated with the actions of others, and then frustrated with myself again, because I believe in Jesus Christ. Don't I praise His name that He forgives me and loves me and intercedes in my behalf? I truly do. I love Him, and want so badly to be His disciple.
So I forgive seventy times. And then the painful blistering wound my whole entire family suffers is ripped back open again by people I just can not understand and I just want to hate, because I hate the feeling of that terrible wound oozing all over my insides. And then I remember it's good to forgive seventy times, but I must forgive seventy times seventy times. And I WANT to forgive that many times!!! Truly, I do. I believe Jesus is serious when He tells me that my sin will be greater then theirs if I refuse to do this. I believe he tells me this out of love. I believe it's a gentle but very serious reminder of my own accountability. And I sincerely hate the feeling I have in my chest -- that horrible, corroding feeling -- when I am angry. But I AM angry. I feel so hurt that incomprehensible people would hurt those I love, those I know so worthy of being loved, so forcefully, so callously, so unfeelingly, and for WHAT? For stupid, greedy, damning things. For things that make me scared in their behalfs.
But maybe I should be scared in my own behalf, because I tossed and turned all night -- begging for respite -- but apparently unwilling to let go and have faith that NO MATTER WHAT it will all be okay. That they can not take goodness and happiness and legacy and love. Unable to mourn for what really hurts because it's so painful to look at and feel at that time of night that it's just easier to be stung by other people's kids then to face head on that terrible loneliness.
So I wish I did that better. I wish I did that a lot better. I wish I did a lot of things BETTER.
I'm sorry that I had to share that with you, but sometimes the glow of the computer screen is easier to talk to and I guess you might as well know the real me and take it or leave it. Either way, it's okay. I have a family that loves me.