To you

I want to be able to say I have all the clarity I need. I want to be able to say that the emotions are gone and the rage is finished. I want to be able to say it's different than it is. But it isn't. And I'm trying to figure out how to be okay with that.

I'm not used to this position. I'm not used to being the perpetrator of hurtful actions. I'm not used to a sea of bitterness and resentment. I'm used to understanding and clearness of thought. I'm not usually confused or so internally divided. This is unfamiliar territory for me.

I've never seen Jesus more clearly than lately, in you. The mercy you consistently pour out over me, the grace, the gentleness, the kindness... I don't understand it. It makes no sense. I've been blown up in to a million little pieces and I'm laying all over the blast sight, still reeling... still in shock. Maybe I'm still exploding. Maybe I'm still grieving, or maybe I haven't even begun.

Somehow you find new ways to love me. In this period where I've been at such a loss for words that it's terrifying, you've just waited. I've never felt so safe. As insane as it seems, I've never felt so safe with you. I've never felt so accepted. Because I've been so hell bent on being perfect. I've been so hell bent on holding everything together. I don't think you can fully grasp the freedom that exists in falling apart (though it has been quite involuntarily done, on my part), and you holding it together. I have always underestimated your strength to handle the chaos in me. I've underestimated your grace.

How unkind of me to have done that. How ridiculous to have missed the point of you. In my head, it was all about me... how I loved you, how I fought, how I worked, how I made things function. In my pride-filled mind, I didn't grasp how much of this equation was you. I didn't see how much you have accepted me, come hell or high water, come what may.

I don't think I've ever loved you more. I don't think I've ever felt more loved. And it's ridiculous, because you've always been that person for me. You've been my safety net, the platform from which I could fall apart, and put myself back together on. You've caught me, when I was disintegrating, and you've loved me through whatever battle I was raging against. You've been the hands and feet of Jesus. You've been His mercy, and His grace, and His acceptance. And I have been blind. Blind to you.

My God... what treasure I have been given.

You are the strongest person I have ever known. More stubborn than me, more merciful. When I grow up, I want to be like you. I am humbled that you choose me, this fragile little girl that walks around pretending to be a grown up. A "basket case" in a pretty dress... A warrior that doesn't know how to calm down. You are the better side of me. In every sense that I can possibly mean that.

You know, better than anyone, this fight inside of myself. You see more clearly than anyone, that I am not okay. But you believe one day I will be, and your belief makes me believe it too. Oh the wisdom of God to pair me with you! I am so humbled by it.

I am broken, beloved. I am lost. And I'm sitting still in this muck and this mire wallowing, tring to bolster up the strength to fight my way out. And I look over and see you sitting there with me waiting for me to be ready to go. My God, what words are there to define that astounding comfort? I am not alone here. You are with me. How can I ever give you the credit you deserve? Where would I begin?