Monday, April 27, 2015

The Day(s) I Stopped Dreaming


The day(s) I stopped waiting.

They came on so slowly I didn’t even notice.

I woke up sore, and expected to spend this day sore, and the next day and the next day and the next,

Like a CD skipping (or Pandora losing Wifi),

My life felt convicted.

I don’t say condemned because I didn’t feel that way.

I was comfortable in the sore, comfortable in the pain, comfortable in C.P. because it was me.

I stopped waiting.

On the soreness to stop, on God to give me my dreams.

I knew there was more, but I didn’t want to face it.

Hear me, there is a level of acceptance that is wisdom. God has taught me a lot through C.P.

How to never give up, to celebrate the small things, how to find glitter in unlikely places, how to love people who are different.

The problem arises when acceptance transitions to apathy, and an active belief that God may not care as much as He thinks He does.

But today, today, something happened. Someone told me God wanted to heal me.

This was not just any someone. This was,

My dear, sweet, crazy stubborn, loved beyond knowledge Zoe Grace.

Every. Time. I am around her it’s like looking in a mirror.

And she said them. The words.

The words I have such a complex relationship with,

“God wants to heal you.”

I knew a problem had arisen when all I could feel was frustrated anger.

Her faith was so unquestioning, and to be honest

I stopped caring if God healed me a long time ago,

But as a result of not caring I started to believe some lies.

“All of God’s gifts are hard. He has gifts for you but they stop at good, not perfect.”

“Prepare yourself because you will have small dreams come true, but don’t dream big.”

Here’s a big one, “If God doesn’t care about the C.P. part of your life, He sure won’t take care of the rest of it.”

So, like an anesthetic, I numbed myself to hard, to desire, because if I didn’t want, it didn’t hurt. So I became a pessimist, (realist), because if I expected the worst, nothing was out of my control.

Sin.

But I didn’t fall into it on purpose.

And I realized when precious Zoe said those words, the words,

 And I knew God was calling to life a dead part of me.

And dead parts seem safe. Because they don’t feel

But being alive? That’s a risk.

But as I talked to Father God about it,

I realized it’s a risk I have to take.

Because whether He heals me or not doesn’t really matter.

What matters is that I know His Heart in the midst of it.

He has good gifts for me. With C.P. Without C.P.

Healed or sick.

So if I dream of healing and He doesn’t give it,

He still has good gifts. Ceasing to dream was never His will.

The only one disqualifying myself from that is me.

And Zoe reminded me, God gives good gifts.

Today, I choose to accept them.

Thanks for the glitter sweet girl(even I’m having a hard time).

I can’t tell people to choose life if I’m unwilling to choose it myself.

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