An Enduring Patience

Eyes open, you’re on the floor
Some might call this an epiphany
A revelation of sorts
But, really, you’re just happy to be alive.

You clench your fists, then hesitantly release them
Symbolically letting go of what you’ve clung onto for so long
Over and over, the same forced motion
Yet it never makes any difference; you just aren’t ready.

You cry out for a savior, even though you still hold onto your vice
You’ve given it up before, but you fall harder each time.
To some, God means love, safety, hope, and grace.
To you, God means pain, failure, hurt, and fear.

Torn, you decide it’s time you’re honest.
You tell God you can’t leave it behind.
You’re scared of what might happen, it’s who you are
So you take it back up, leaving the cross in the distance.

“I won’t force it upon you, that’s just not what I do.
But I’ll still love you. I’ll still watch over you.
So if you decide you want me, I’ll be right here.
I’ll be waiting for you. I won’t be going anywhere.”

That’s who He is. Maybe someday you’ll recognize Him.
He’s patient when no one else around is.
And He’ll stand here with His arms open wide
Waiting for the day you call His name.

kadi.

Satisfied.

Sometimes it would be so much easier.

Settle for the typical American life.

Husband. 2 or 3 kids. Job that pays just enough for us to get by.

It would be easier to be satisfied with what everyone else is satisfied, rather than have these big dreams and plans. With expectations. Goals.

And half expecting to fail.

It would be easier. But, maybe I don't always want what's easiest.

I've always been the type of person that wants to know my life impacts someone, even in the smallest way. I'm not always happy with school and family and such because it doesn't seem like I can make that big impact. Skip high school. Skip college. Let me go work with kids in Uganda or Indonesia or the Phillippines and let me know that I'm that light in their lives. Let me know that I can die and my life will mean something to someone else. Let me burn out bright.

I want to change the world.

Even if it's only a few peoples' worlds.

More than anything. I want to know I've made a change in what's around me.

I want to know I'm not useless. And that my life was used by God. That something came of pain and joy and failures and victories.

kadi.

Heavy and Light.

It’s the start of a new year; the first day has come to a close. And it’s easy, it seems, to go into a new year with feelings filled with doubt, fear, failure- especially after a year when those words characterized each day.

Last night at the New Year’s Eve party, the speaker (Chris Collins) mentioned pain, suffering. He said we all have it; we’ll all experience it firsthand. But, it’s something that will not last.

I read someone’s words earlier today, saying how she was glad for the rain to stop as she was driving home. Maybe that’s a bit like our reality…

Everywhere it rains. But everywhere the rain eventually stops. Even in the areas where it rains for months on end, it all comes to an end and in turn reveals a sun that’s been there all along.

Pain is ever present in a fallen world, as is suffering, failure, fear. Unfortunately, though it’s what we chose in the beginning. We will go through times when we just can’t see the sun anymore. We will. But it also all has to come to an end sometime.

I’ve also heard a phrase, “heavy and light”, be used to describe our lives. Things come in opposites. Heavy and light. Life isn’t always happy, everyone can attest to that. But life isn’t always sad, either.

Life can suck; it can be a living hell. And I have scars as reminders of that truth. But maybe just the fact that I wake up each morning to a new day is something to find hope in. And maybe, too, that whole analogy of the glass half full, half empty kind of thinking- maybe it’s just good that there’s actually something in there.

I can look outside and easily see evidence of struggle and failure. But I can also see a creation so pure. I can see my God’s signature in everything and everyone, even the most beat up and bruised. And that should be something that gives me reason to praise Him forever. The fact that each morning I’m greeted with a new day that reminds me I’m given another chance, no matter how bad I screwed up the night before. I’m given another chance to learn to trust God and believe in what He can do, no matter how far I had run just hours earlier.

It doesn’t matter. He is patient, with arms always extended. He doesn’t care how many times we blame Him or how many times we ignore Him, He wants us and chooses to give us another sunrise.

kadi.