Why do I even write these blog posts? Who even reads them? Some people write because it cleanses them of their jumbled thoughts and emotions. Some people write because they can't express themselves well verbally.
Sometimes I wonder if I write because I'm trying to reach the people who are beyond my reach.
Is that a good enough reason? Is it wrong to publicly write my thoughts and feelings simply because I am unable to share them with the people I want to know it most? Is that selfish? Or dramatic? Or immature? I honestly don't know.
When you have no way of knowing what someone is feeling, sometimes you have to be vulnerable and lay it all out there...hoping that somehow, someway, they see it and understand what it means. Even if you don't.
Well, here you go. This is for You.
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I have no idea who I am right now. I don't know what I want out of life. I don't know what I hope to be one day. I don't even know what my dreams are anymore. I think about what I pictured this time in my life looking like...and I realize that I never had a picture of anything. All I could ever see was what I had directly in front of me:
A table of friends smiling and laughing, teachers with cups of coffee and words of advice, a picnic table with my Bible, gingko leaves scattered on the ground, a grand piano under a spotlight, an overstuffed couch with musty smells and arms to hold me, promises of loyalty and never-ending affection, my family close to my heart but not within arm's reach, the excitement of pursuing dreams that seemed attainable, the fight to make something worth fighting for, the knowledge that I was completely and entirely loved, admired, pursued, and missed...by the ones that mattered most.
That's always been my problem. I focus entirely on the moment at hand and never stop to think about what things will look like a month, two months from then. I try to look into the vast haze of my future, become nauseated, and quickly turn back to the voices in front of me that say, "You're amazing. I'm not going anywhere. I promise you have nothing to be scared of. I care."
Except that sometimes, those voices fall silent, the present suddenly becomes the past and the future jumps into the present, finding you unprepared and frantically rereading the already lived moments of your life.
Yes, you should enjoy the moment. But what happens when the moment ends?
I've heard the saying, "Do the next thing. No matter how simple."
But what if you don't know what the next thing is? What if you've honestly searched and cried and grappled and clawed your way through the pain, the loneliness and the not understanding...and come up with nothing?
In case you were wondering, that's precisely where I am. My search to understand has resulted in frustration. My cries for clarity have ended in confusion. My grappling with "why" has been answered with deafening silence. My heart that longs for restoration and healing has found nothing to hold onto but the hope of "one day."
So I wait. I press on. I keep the oh-so-tiny flame of hope alive in my heart, gently coaxing it to burn and shed light on the shadows of my soul. I do this so that when the time is right, it can leap into a blaze of blinding joy and be the beacon that brings someone else's tiny flame of hope--and their Heart--to me.
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