she can’t quit

meanwhile,
(while grievous)
be content with
unimportance,
like You.

Jesus,
on the mountain
did You cry for
Your Father—
please,

remind me
I am whom
You love.
Wrap me
in belief.

I’ce read
how You lavish
love on me every
breath. silence
the best gift,

watching me
cry & hide in
truth—I may
be envious
of people fine

in telling You
goodbyes—
nullifying heart
with all pleasure
feeble hands can,

(food, words, screen)

Your promise to guide
tenderly & bless me;
envelops this blue
sheep in longing

today, I had a list of all i want to do today. that isn’t happening. instead, i wrote this to remind myself small isn’t bad. Satan’s been trying tell me, oh, Julia, no one sees or cares what you’re doing. How come no one is paying attention to how sad and confused you feel? No one is even listening. You’ll be lonely forever. Stop praying, He isn’t listening. Stop giving, it isn’t changing anything.

And Jesus, knowing that I’ve gone a little crazy (lack of being able to sleep and food. I have food, it all just tastes off), leads me to Psalm 73:

though i am plagued by grief when i think i’m doing okay (and everyone around seems happy), Jesus is still holding my hand, leading me in his love tenderly. Somewhere in my heart, I think He’s left me, but then I think He’s loving me quietly.

The best thing for me.

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