Hatred. Blame.

It scares me.

It scares me just how easy it is for me to hate something, someone. How quick I am to blame God, blame someone else, blame something.

A friend tells me that he struggles most every night, when I thought it wasn't so often. I blame God. Why can't I help him anymore than I am? Why can I only do so much? Why did you choose him, of all people?

I believe "love is the movement". But I sure don't act like it. I realized tonight how much hate there is in my life. Not necessarily hate for anyone, at least not now, but for myself, what I've done, what I can't do, blaming God.

Regrets, guilt.

It's tearing me down.

Hearing someone who's been imprisoned so many times and constantly persecuted say he has never hated the people who want him dead... it makes you realize that you have no reason to hate.

I just want to do so much more. I want to help him. But I can't, I can only do so much which never seems like much at all. After what he's done for me, you'd think I could do some of the same for him.

kadi.

Regrets. Guilt.

Regrets suck.

Guilt is no place to live.

This is nothing I should know.

It's the Christian thing to not regret and mindlessly repeat the phrase "let God use your mistakes." ...Or something like that. To believe in a grace and trust that there's no reason to feel this guilt. It's all blanketed in a sense of forgiveness.

I know it's true. But it's another thing entirely to act like that, and not just say it.

I do a decent job of not regreting. I screw up. Beat myself up a bit. Sometimes more than I should. But give me a day and I can move on. At least most of the time. Except for this one. No matter how many sunrises I receive, it's all the same. That same regret that promises to haunt me and remind me of that Sunday afternoon back in May. Everytime I see those scars.

Sometimes I wonder. What if no word came out of my mouth that I didn't believe for myself as well? Like all of this about grace and mercy and truth and honesty. I don't think I'd be talking or writing as much. I don't think any word would form at all.

I've been told, I've heard so many times to not regret and not live in such a place as guilt. But when it comes to this, it seems just about as possible as me waking up in the morning to find no scars and my life just like it was not too long ago.

kadi.

Thanksgiving, Of Course.

Today is Thanksgiving. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes. Seeing family you won't see again for maybe a year, or Christmas if you're really close knit. Watch your favorite football team. Then sleep. Wake, and eat more.

I try to think though, of something I'm thankful for other than "Oh. This year I'm so thankful for all of you- my friends and family. You're all so wonderful." But this year, I haven't known exactly what I'm thankful for. Not up until now.

I have a friend. She met someone while she was overseas. My friend was given the opportunity to show Jesus to this girl and explain of the sacrifice He made. She accepted Jesus. She loved Jesus. "My Isa."

Things progressessed for the girl. Her mom found her Bible that my friend had given her and burned it. She kicked the girl out of the house and basically said she was no longer part of the family. So, the girl found a place with a friend. Her mother found her. "Get this girl out of her house." No mention of any 'daughter'.

Time went by as her mother kidnapped her. Beating her and locking her up for days. But she made it out and found my friend.

As my friend had to leave to come back home, she wanted to ask the girl one thing.

"If you have known you'd go through this much trouble, would you still have accepted Jesus?"

The girl hesitated, answering after a moment.

"I'm so sad... I am so sad because I can't live inside my house and I can't live inside my family. But I'm so happy because I can live inside my Isa."

My Jesus.

In the past year, since last Thanksgiving, I feel like I've done so much. I've done so much that I'm surprise Jesus still looks on my with a caring and forgiving heart.

Doubts. Blame. Giving up on Him. To where I set aside everything I knew. In the mornings, like a robot, I'd read my Bible. Go through the devotional. Then I'd become aware of the school day coming up. Hesitantly I'd lay my Bible at my feet and reach over for the scissors. Slowly, I'd release what I couldn't verbalize. I'd release the pain, regrets, shame, guilt, that only I knew.

But you know what? My Jesus doesn't mind. He loves me and wants to see me live. My Isa offers what I need to heal a wound deep enough that no one else can reach.

My Isa. He's saved me. He loves me. And He refuses to leave me, no matter how many times I come back from worship and plead with Him to leave me alone. He's there. Just like always, just like when nothing was wrong.

kadi.

On My Shoulders.

It's Wednesday. My mom knew as of last night. My dad knew earlier today.

I woke up this morning, hoping that after last night, I'd be able to avoid any conversations and make it off to school still feeling okay. When my mom came into my room near tears, I realized that wouldn't happen.

She rolled up my sleeves. Looked for the faded scars.

She asked why. Why. Why.

"I'm so upset, so angry with God right now for letting you go through something like this."

No. If I've learned anything this past year, it'd be that it's not God. He's the one keeping me alive. He's the reason why I can look at my wrists and still believe in rescue and a better ending.

I never meant for anyone to know. Caleb. Jessie. My youth pastor. My parents. I realized that I brought this upon myself. This pain, guilt, shame. These regrets. And I never wanted anyone to ever have to carry that on their shoulders. I wanted it to stay on mine. No one else should have been burdened. It's not their fault. I didn't do this to myself because of them. I never have.

Things are changing. Rapidly, with me losing my way. My life isn't anything like what it was just 24 hours ago. But, this is it. This is what I've been given.

kadi.