Thursday

Here is what I (used to) do (OK, sometimes still do, until I realize who I am).

I walk through my days a lot of the time feeling so alone. Like all these people surround me and even communicate with me but it's like no one can hear me at all. Or I scream and no one's ears have the capacity to hear such awful noise. The pitch is too high, or too low, or just intolerable. Or they can hear it but they can't decipher what strange language seems to be coming out of it; so no one really knows who I am, and if they did, well what good would it do anyway. All they want to know is ruled by some selfish desire saying "what can she do for me?"

And then my mind fights back and says, no Kala, your not alone. Don't you remember what it says in your Bible? And I'm thinking that my mind is a useless piece of mass plotting against my pity party, bullying my heart around a little bit, (maybe taking it's lunch money) and completely in-validating the way I feel.

And of course I know better than that. I am a daughter of the King, after all. And I believe Him when He says I'm not alone. And it's when He shows me how much I'm not alone that it even makes any sense at all. And he uses others to show me, too. Even still, it seems like a senseless thing. To give in to feelings when you've got a huge book called LOVE to remind you everyday. But He only shows me when I let Him. And then I go right up to that old man throwing himself a nice little pity party with a table for 1, punch him in the face and tell him to stop distracting me from the Truth.

And on nights like Thursday, He brings something to my memory, shows me how it made me feel, and then shows me how it made Him feel. And then my heart breaks into a hundred pieces at my inability to recognize real Love when it's bleeding right there on my face.

And then, he simply speaks, and those pieces can't put themselves back together fast enough. Like if they don't something in them will explode. And then my blood pumps through a new heart and the rest of my body soon catches up to the newness of it all. And restored blood flows through every part of my broken body and then He puts it all back together again (for now).

And then of course, there's the other voice. You know the one, frantically trying to convince me that I couldn't possibly be worthy of such a Love. That my aloneness is justified and that every day I don't feel it, I've ignored a piece of who I am. And who am I? Alone. That's who.

And this is the literal fight against Love. It takes a pretty hateful sort of a creature to try and convince someone that who they are isn't real. Not real at all. And then it becomes so entangled with who God's created me to be that I've become immune to it's blows, wouldn't recognize it if satan himself woke me up in the middle of the night screaming ALONE! ALONE! ALONE!

And so the wounds just look like skin; and I live another day just the same as I did before.

But, oh, how beautiful my Savior. When I see him coming on that white horse, furious lightning and violent clouds, saying That's MY girl. Don't you dare touch her. And the sound of the thunder speaks more than words could scream. And the lightning penetrates my soul and all I hear is perfect Love.

NOT ALONE. NOT ALONE. NOT ALONE.