I Knew You Would Come, Darling

For weeks, I have been wanting to write about dreams. The ones I’ve had come true from September to October. The ones I woke to on loud days. In my mind and the circumstances outside. The ones I’ve shared with my family inside this house that lately feels like a stained glass window I’m constantly squinting out of to see You.

These gifts perfect and good from You, the Father of lights, never changing like shifting shadows. The ones I poured out my ugly, bearing this vulnerable heart as if it is all I own. With every broken shatter from one repeated question: Why?

Why did I come back?

Why does this hurt worse?

Why so much arguing still?

Why do parents have to divorce?

Why do I believe the lies that come from separation?

Why do I want to spend so much time with You?

Why do I need physical proof of Your intimate care for me?

Why am I blind to You taking me in?

Why do people have to mock me for loving You?

Why am I still so angry?

Sad?

Why is it easier to anticipate the bad, and refuse sweet, sweet blessing?

Why don’t they love You like I do?

Why can’t I accept You forgive me?

Why me?

Oh, Jesus, how the only dreams staying with me, are the ones where I’m drowning. Cold. Frigid water. My head is being pushed under. So far to the point the I’m sure I’ve died. Someone is telling me to let go. Stop fighting. Laughing an evil laugh. My eyes are wide with fear. I’m opening my mouth to scream fir You. My lungs are filling with water. I’m flailing. Laughing is louder.

HE ISN’T GOING TO SAVE YOU! This voice is cackling. I’m crying: Where are You?!

My eyes close to an end.

I’m floating. On air or water, I’m unsure. But You must be with me through these deep waters, because I’m held in Your everlasting arms, in a hug I never wish to shake off.

Ypu’ve set me, as Moses, in the cleft of the rock. I’m standing under the cover of Your right hand, knowing though I am still, You are fighting for me.

Every why. And every question that follows when you misunderstand your life. Yourself.

Who?

What?

When?

Where?

How?

And as I am a sheep, I must follow You, my Shepherd, watching in expectant hope Your back will turn away my longing gaze, revealing Your welcomed expression.

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