I have no idea where to begin.
I just spent the better part of the night watching old shows that I grew up on, laughing and talking with someone I love dearly. But then the silence came- that silence that I crave all day long. Through the thumping of doors slamming shut and children's calls to each other from room to room, the worry of near empty bank accounts being squeezed of every last penny to appease the bill people , the pouring rain that has overtaken the forecasted sunny day...through all of the chaos and frustration and playtime and teachings I crave this silence; now that it's here, it scares me.
I'm not sure I like it, especially when I'm the only one awake. I take my sleepy toddler by the hand and guide her back to her warm well blanketed bed, and it feels so good to have someone holding my hand in the darkness. Most nights, I am up and down correcting overwound children, or the ones with the bad dreams or who saw the scary shadows. It is during these times that I hear the silence. The faint snore coming from a distant bedroom; the rush of the wind outside like a train whizzing by; the whimper of our dogs twitching on the couch, dreaming of endless outdoor play. But it is also during these times that the reality of what is my reality hits me like a smack in the face and it doesn't matter that I was laughing and reminiscing just a few hours earlier- I am immediately pulled towards fear and the tears overtake me. It is in this darkness and silence that I see and feel in the physical world exactly what I cannot see but still feel in the spiritual one.
I used to feel as though I was so on track with the Lord and I resented my angelic reputation. I hated that the people I just wanted to simply talk to and get to know never wanted to give me a second thought or just a chance at a real friendship because they assumed I would look down from my pedestal at them and make them feel the way I feel people make me feel now. The saddest part is, I never would have. That is not who I am, and I never gave that indication.
Now I'm stumbling around in darkness, crying out for my Father to hear me, to answer my call, to give me some guidance and direction. I know it is evil to ask for signs, but how else can I really know that something is from the Lord and not the Devil appearing as an Angel of Light? How do I know that everything that I was taught before wasn't wrong or askew or a mistake- based on generational misinformation? The only thing that I cling to is the Word, and even that has been twisted and misinterpreted a thousand ways by both well meaning and evil pastors and elders.I don't want to fall away- not now, not when the end is so very close. It's not fair, that if I was going the right way throughout the race that now I get lost and lose my sense of direction.My soul can't afford to to be lost.
And even now, in this evil physical realm I am forced to face utter failure. Fears that I have never once worried about have become my daily torment.There is no money. There is no way to provide for myself and my children without the help that isn't there. There is no emotional comfort- just daily spits in the face, so to speak. Things I craved and begged and asked for-humiliated at having to grovel for- are so freely given to another who has not had to endure what I have, who has not been put through the humiliation I have and who has not been there time and again and again forgiving and being let down in a vicious self destructive cycle. I watch my children try so desperately to get what should just be an honour to give to them, and now I have to dispense it twice as much to fill the void.The fact of the matter is, now I have to continue on in this world with no support or security by my side while others get to go and play like they are air-headed teenagers again.While they put in their paid allotted 8 hours and come home to video games and private giddy phone calls, I put in my thankless,never ending 24 hours of educating, and meal planning and budgeting and bill paying, and smooth talking debtors and fears, and 3am nightmares and 4am potty runs and checking measly online auctions praying to God another memory I have put up for sale has been bought by a stranger so that I can make ends meet and squirrel away for an uncertain and frighteningly lonely future.
So there I sit, by my window on the floor looking out at the darkened town. I wonder how many people in the houses that I am looking at are sleeping soundly and how many feel the way I do right now and are being robbed of their only peaceful time? I wonder if my entire life has been set up for something miraculous just before the end, or just a set up? Is all this torment for my eventual good, or will I just die a pathetic creature with a lot of wasted potential and a legacy left behind for someone else to learn from? Will this blog ever reach anyone? Does anyone even read it? No one ever comments. No donations are made. I read these articles of Joe Schmoes who took a risk and put everything out there and their blogs just blew up with fans and readers and people who care. I have never once done anything in order to get rich, but it would be nice to know that my thoughts and feelings are just screams from my heart that echo as whispers into nothingness. It would be a miracle to know that I matter in this world.That there is a chance my pathetic life could touch or entertain people enough to make a difference in their own lives. I want to matter.
I don't want to walk alone in the dark anymore.