Living through Super Glue or The Fire

Is this your life?

When you are shattered in life, like a crystal vase that has crashed on a hard tile floor, you are splintered into little parts - some sharp as a cutting edge, others blunt and a few chunks that just wouldn't break any smaller. We go about life trying to "be normal" if we can... to fit in, to not draw attention, to not be 'a problem', to wishfully be swept away...

But very rarely do the broken pieces in life ever come together...

Why? With so many hurting people, so many who have been taken advantage of, who have been abused or used... why do so few find healing.

I think it might have to do with what we are willing to endure, what cost we deem too much to pay... and how much we love.

Cost and love - an odd duo. Love can't be bought, but it costs more than most of any love newbie would imagine. Sacrifice, selflessness, delayed satisfaction and so many similar lessons must be mastered in transforming ... in becoming capable of loving others deeply, and really loving ourselves.

Broken people have such a warped view of love.

Bleed No More, Stop the Cutting

His Blood For Me

Bleed the pain... it pours like a heavy rain.
And it cuts, feel the pain, it's so sharp.
It's the raw edge of pain.When will it end? When will it run dry?
Bleed No More..... when will I bleed no more.

I know fear, and Fear knows me.
I know death, he stares at me.
He wanted to take my life, just a child, once upon a time an innocent me... once was... one time... I think, the word "child" was suppose to be, a description of me. No More!

It's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie.
I can't die for myself.
Stop the cutting, it will never really stop the pain.
Each slash is another bar holding my soul in a prison within... going deeper... ever deeper, lost within.

The glassy stare, the stone cold face, the numbing way she floats through space.
Just a shell of who she could be. 

It will never satisfy the gulf - the hollow lifeless agony. 

How many others had it stolen away, like me, ripped in anger, punched away?
Now be silent, don't say a work. Don't remember - it never really happen anyway... just remember it never really happen like what you say.
You don't know - you don't know - its not like what you say.

My life's a horror flick - splatter blood upon a screen, wasting, meaningless... putrid death inside of me.
But it reels and reels, I was cast in that role... though it was not suppose to be.
Soon the credits roll, please - no - stop,
before it says: The End.... It's too soon, I am not ready...it's not my ending. Help me!

_________________

But He knows, He saw me hurt. And the tears, He saw me sob, He held each one. The costly tears, He knows the why of each one. He will never forget. He remembers the truth for me. 

Drained - Rejected?

I don't know why I am so drained?

Nothing is wrong... no sickness, no big problems (we all have the daily little stuff).

It is more of lifeless, empty, (I hate to say this) BORED.

Out of my heart flows His Words.....

Yeah, yeah, I've said it before, "Bored? I will give you something to be bored about."

Many think if you set goals, work, plan, go.... you can avoid it.

The truth for my life is I am not purposefully plugged in to doing what God created me to do. I am like an artist without a canvas, a fashion-designer without fabric, a chef without food.

But sometimes I do have the supplies: the canvas, the paint, the brushes, the fabric or food... and what I am lacking is a place to be visible. I can paint a hundred canvases but if not one is ever seen - what purpose is my life? I can design closet filled with outfits but if one is never worn - why exert the effort? And I can make the most appealing meals with the finest of ingredients, but if no one ever taste them - it is a waste.

God created me to write, to speak, to teach.... I know it. I get weary of the energy it takes to promote myself, to network, to find small openings for my abilities.... I write, and write and write... journals and notebooks filled - in piles - around me.... if I look I see... I think...

Did I write that? That was good. What a message. What a needed teaching.

But I wait... and the doors do not open. I know His timing is perfect, and I don't mean to whine or complain, but there is something beautiful about life when you are allowed to receive from Him and let Him flow out from you... watering, seasoning, building, lifting up, rescuing, renewing..... the list goes on.....

Doubting Myself - Living in Rejection

hurt, cold, run away

She hurt me. She pointed at me and accused me.
What? Why? I didn't.....

Run... run... run away. Close your mouth... Calm...

But I reach out ... slap... and I reach out... slam... and I reach out... stone cold!



Why was she angry? I thought she was my friend. I like her. We have always gotten along. What did I say that was so  offensive.

She did not smile. She would not talk. She turned not to look back at me. Does she know? Does she care? Or is she simply hurting too much inside to even see the pain caused to another? my pain. I am blind to her pain?

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. We both live in grace."

Why is she ignoring me? Rejecting my words.... shunning me...running from me....

I gotta go, gotta get out of here, can't take it, can't believe it, what is her problem, rules are rules, can she not read. Does she have no respect? She is wrong, oh so wrong. irksomely wrong. getta away. run away. stop it. I don't want to hear.

She gets in her car, and shuts the door.

Then the voices speak, "You always ruin everything. You can't make friends. You can't function in a group. You will never be able to be a part. And you thought you found your place, a place to serve, a place to minister. hah! See how quickly you cause problems. They would be better off with out you. Everywhere you go things fall apart, people get offended, someone is hurt..."

But I was so happy, at peace, in love.

How do occasions materialize, be enjoyed, provide assurance and blessing, and then, so quickly turn? The rug ripped out, the room set ablaze. I had it, now I watch it slip away. Taunting. Haunting. Echos of the past - he hit the button 'replay'.