I'm not sure why -- I just do. I hate feeling this way. In all honesty, I went to bed last night fighting this feeling, and then a couple of things that happened this morning caused it to awaken in full force.
But my question, when I feel this way, is always this -- should I be fighting this feeling, knowing that I do have an unshakeable peace? Or should I be paying attention to this feeling, marking it down as a testament to something that's "off" in my life or circumstances?
Even my reading this morning seems to testify to my dilemma:
"He who trusts in his own heart is a fool, but he who walks wisely will be delivered." (Proverbs 28:26)
Is this feeling a part of the foolishness of my own heart, or is it a testament to something in me that is failing to walk wisely?
Can I just be honest and say that, sometimes, I sort of hate this time in my life? I know that sounds like a strong thing to say, but I'm just so tired of all the wrestling, all the fighting, all the back and forth. In my life of late, there is usually at least one time in every week where I contemplate running away, throwing my cell phone out of the window, and totally disappearing off the face of the earth.
I keep thinking back to this one time when I was about eight years old. Some terrible, earth-shattering, completely abominable thing had happened -- by that I mean someone probably read my diary, or spanked me unjustly -- and I had decided to run away. "That'll show them," my little eight-year-old brain thought, "Now they'll know they were wrong, and they'll be sorry." So I furiously grabbed my little Bambi suitcase and began stuffing it full of clothes. Where would I go? In all honesty, I couldn't think past the big hill at the end of our street. But I would get there, and then I would keep going.
Where? No matter! Who would care, anyway? Oh shoot, wait. That was the point. They would care, and they would be sorry. Hmph. That was enough.
But then, slowly, as good ole' Bambi started to get full, my heart started to hurt inside. What if no one did care? What if no one minded that I was gone? What if no one stopped me?! What if no one came after me?! My eight-year-old heart was starting to panic and feel very sad.
And then my Mom came in. "What are you doing?"
Already crying, I answered her, "I was going to run away!" I would guess that at this point I threw myself on top of the Bambi suitcase and started sobbing.
Mom didn't say much. She didn't chide me. She didn't bemoan how she should've treated me more kindly. She just said, "Oh, Em," and took me into her arms, and then I just cried. I was SO glad she had found me before I ran away.
Lord, please find me before I run away this time. That's all I've got today. At least it's honest!
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