Untitled

The weather outside matches my mood. It is the first day of spring but winter still lingers.

I am welcoming the snow one last time.

To the people I have lost; how sad that there are multiple:

My heart breaks for you but you don’t need to know that. I’m not even sure if you want to know that; I don’t know whether it would encourage you or hurt you. Perhaps you think I am being insincere; you can judge me all you want but our Father in heaven knows if I am being righteous or not. My heart breaks for you; I’m not sure if I miss you anymore; but I think I love you, still.

I did not love you properly and for that I am deeply sorry. You did not love me properly, either. I guess this is what we get when broken people try to form lasting relationships; I wonder if our foundation had been built more on Jesus if it would have lasted longer?

“What did I do wrong?” I often pleaded with you silently in my heart.

I didn’t love you enough to love Jesus more.

I found Polaris yesterday. It made me quite happy; not as happy as I thought it would. It seems difficult lately to be happy; I think I’ve given up on being happy.

I don’t need to be happy. I just need Jesus.

I spit words out as I pray to the Lord; I didn’t mean to speak out loud but I am so fearful I have to cry out verbally to the Lord. I am angry at myself; how can I be so unfaithful? How can I doubt His provision and His goodness? Why is it so hard to trust Him?

“Father, I’m scared,” I tell Him, over and over again. It is hard to calm down; I ask for His comfort and peace.

Do I imagine it or is it for real? He lays His hand on my head. I fall asleep to Him stroking my hair; in my sleep I am still praying to Him.

The smell of my shampoo hits me hard; it is the same one I used during my vacation in Paris.

I remember the flower petals, the breeze, La Seine, the cobblestone paths, the smell of butter and flour, the sun. The tiny hotel room I spent happy hours in; the bakery up a few streets that sold fresh baguettes every day, reading Hebrews outside on the tiny balcony and falling in love with Jesus in the city that is famous for it.

A mere week later, I avoided Him for the rest of my summer vacation, angry and bitter at the one person who had the power to lift me up from the mini depression I had thrown myself in.

How fickle our love is. I wonder how He takes it.

Advertisements