My Father's daughter... this title...if you've read at all you know what Father I am speaking of. Somehow, tonight I feel like that rebellious teenage girl: angry and sad and wanting her father to figure out what's wrong and fix it as I push him away. I want to be rescued. I want to be told through my tears and all the fear that it's all going to be ok. Life has been unexpectedly hard. And also really amazing... when I have the strength and state of mins to step back (way back) and look at what my Father has done.. This last year though. It beat me up. It was unspeakably hard... I guess I still need to process. To move forward I think I need to come back to one of my first loves. Well two of my loves, really: my Father, my Abba, the One I'd call out to in the middle of the night because I always knew He was there. And the other love? Words. I wrote before how writing is the one thing that could ever make sense of the chaos in my mind. I left it for so long and it
I need a word or scripture or something...for when you spent 20 years trying to raise a family and keep a hard marriage together and work and homeschool and you forgot people you should have been responsible for. For when you didn't pursue someone who who needed pursuing. When you're so distracted with what was in front of your face you forgot the big picture. When you beg to God for more children and you forgot that you already have some that should have been in your care. When it's too late and you can't do anything to fix any of your mistakes. And you don't want to cry in front of your husband because it makes him feel so much guilt.... And every time someone says 'you can't blame yourself" you want to respond with "why the hell can't I"......