A good tug at the ole boot straps
And now I will stop wasting time.
For I am the only steward of my time and my time is the only resource from which I pull.
And now I will open my eyes and see where my fists land instead of punching at the air.
And now I am going to stop being directed by hope.
Hope confounds me.
It's not easy to start over in a new place with no friends and no knowledge of the area, but I'm enslaved to hopes of the next time I talk to an old friend, or the next opportunity to make a new one, or the next visit home, or acceptance to school.
My books aren't getting read. I've stopped on my bill repayments just short of paying them off. I've just fizzled. I hope and I hope and hope has me by the balls.
I think I know what the problem is.
I haven't spoken a personal word to God in some time. I think that part of me feels hemmed up with strength for not having cried in so long. Because I'm so alone I don't feel at liberty to weep. These people have no right to see me cry. They cannot appreciate the intensity of my sorrow. But I know that if I talk to God I'll begin to cry. And then I'll have to become honest and open and lay my hurt out to the air.
Faith is so troublesome at times.
I don't know what I'd do without it, though. Faith helps for the broad expanse of life: the Big Picture makes sense to me with a God in heaven and an ultimate plan and Jesus and Eternity. But in my moment by moment faith shackles me to my insecurities. Why am I supposed to stop wanting the things I want in order to have my wants fulfilled?
"If all that's left is duty
I'm falling on my sword
that way I would not serve
a distant, unseen Lord.
So please tell me the story
of sinners ransomed from the fall.
I still have never seen you,
and sometimes I don't love you at all."
Pedro the Lion
