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Fewer Moving Parts Mean Fewer Broken Pieces

I’m going to walk with a limp for the rest of my life.

I’ve been fighting a losing battle as hard as I possibly can. I’m throwing my best weapons at my opponent, screaming bloody murder, out of shape and out of breath but stubborn as a mule. My opponent? Yahweh. The Lord God Almighty Himself. And this battle has been raging for years.

I don’t doubt that He loves me – no one can ever convince me otherwise. If you’re looking to waste your time, I dare you to try. What I have a harder time transferring from my head to my heart is that He is actually good to me. Not in the cheesy Christian mantra sort of way. Not in the “Life just destroyed you, but don’t forget that all things work together for good” type of annoyingly perky pat answer Christians are so good at giving.

I mean the Nothing I give you or let happen to you or make happen for you is out of malice or for my enjoyment but only, purely for my Glory and your good. And that’s the problem – that one “little” part. His Glory. We both agree on Him deserving all the glory, but our ideas for getting there differ greatly. At least I think so. My head tells me that every part of this crappy season (that has lasted, oh just about six years) is being worked into a greater good. But my heart tells my head that I will forever be in this desert. That I won’t ever get this process approved, and I’ll be a nanny forever, and I’ll never leave this dreadful (otherwise beautiful) city, and I’ll never actualize my career goals, and I’ll never find love, and if I do, I will have the world’s most atrocious-looking kids fathered by a 4-foot-ten albino who also happens to be my husband. But through it all, have no fear, for I will learn to be perfectly content with my relationship with God. I’ll be so content that I won’t even care that everyone else has everything I want, and in abundance. Nothing I’ve ever wanted will matter. Because, as we all know, a woman’s heart should be so lost in God that a man [and every other good thing in life] must seek Him in order to find her.

If you look past the sarcasm and bitterness, all I’m saying is that I haven’t learned to trust that His plan for ultimate glorification isn’t the same thing as my worst nightmare. And I tell him quite often that I deserve better than this. Haven’t I had my fair share of drama and pain? I’m the one with the daddy issues and the abuse issues and the grew-up-in-the-wrong-culture issues and the boundary issues and the [lack of] boy issues and the unapproved paperwork issues. I got the drama and pain covered, and I do it with a smile on my face. So why can’t I have my fair share of happiness too? I mean, will it ever happen or should I get comfortable in this parched wasteland and try to learn contentment?

I am stubborn, ungrateful, entitled, and unfortunately, relentless. I should learn from my predecessor – Jacob fought with God and ended up with a broken hip. I should take a hint and surrender. He’s going to win anyways. But I’m an obstinate fool, and I’m going to fight until I break. My hip, or this heart of stone.

—————————————————————————–

And even at my worst, He’s still better to me than I’ll ever deserve.

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About thehonestbrave

tending the space between where i am and where i want to be.

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