Day 15

I see the tears dripping down my pillow. The tearstains on the pillow reflect the stains on my face. I cannot see. I am blind. I cannot see as much as my hand in front of my face. I cannot hear, I cannot see, I cannot understand. But I can feel. Goodness, can I feel. The pain is so intense that it takes my breath away. I cannot breathe. Yet somehow my lungs keep filling back up with air. I can feel the hot tears against my cheeks. I can feel my eyes swelling from the continual outflow. I can feel each time my lungs inflate. I can feel. I cannot see, though. I thought I saw that bright beautiful place a few weeks ago, but I have found another shadow. That shadow is called discouragement. It is called frustration. It is called fear. It is called intense pain. Either God led me to a small clearing where the sunlight infiltrated through the tall dark trees, before we continued along the dark trail out of the forest, or God picked me up and let me catch a glimpse of that beautiful place he is taking me. I don't know which is truth. All I know is that I am back in the darkness. No...I cannot see. I am blind, but I can feel that God is there. I feel like I am clutching about, frantically searching for the comfort of His hand. I am blind, but when I find His hand again, I will be able to feel it.

I am haunted in my dreams. Reality haunts me. But even when I sleep there is no relief. I dreamed that he came back to me with the realization that he did love me; that he did want me. We talked, we restored our brokenness. But I woke up, and Reality haunted me; stung me like the venom of a snake. And the pain intensified within me and swelled each organ within me so I could feel each one. The pain no longer writhes up and down, rather, it has taken on the form of my soul so that it covers me from head to toe, infiltrating to the outermost extremities of my being. It stills me, because movement means pain. My fingers move with anguish, my eyes look around in pain. My legs carry me in hurt and intense weakness.
I am broken and beaten.
God, You have taken everything and left only feelings. Instead of pain, let me feel Your hands holding my heart back together, let me feel your unconditional love take on the form of my soul, and kick the pain out of my weak being. Strengthen my frailty.

I find myself begging God the same (except opposite) prayer I prayed 2 years ago. I begged God to give me feelings for him, or to change his mind. He liked me, I hadf no feelings for him. I begged God that if He wanted us together to give me feelings for him, or if it was not right to change his mind. Now I find myself pleading with God to take those feelings away if it is not to be, or to change his mind. It seems like such a contradiction. Yet I have to trust that God knows what He is doing.