Burning...

"...I'm Burning, and I know I'm gonna blister in these flames. But I'll stay here, until this smoke clears, and you find me in the ashes that remain"

I feel as though, this blog is a Debbie Downer at times.  I'm really not depressed, just aware...curiously aware.  Last night at a fun little social, we passed around Table Topics. David's question was "Do you tend to speak Kindly or Honestly" of course David answered with his honesty that is so uniquely beautiful and said "Kindly"  those who knew me, looked my direction and we laughed as I said "Yes, and I speak honestly"  So that is what this is honesty, hopefully, as I grow in love, with Kindness too.

So, at this little social, some new and exciting things for Wayfarer were discussed.  A new Sunday night Service at the Handlebar.  A partnership with people that can fill in the gaps for what Wayfarer has seemingly lacked in ability to do. And a chance for our family to make new friends...wait, this doesn't look so good to me...

It's tough, moving forward. Feeling like something or someone is missing as you take steps.  It doesn't seem right, but you know you must.  It seriously makes me nauseaous right now, thinking of doing a new venture and missing 4 people.  4 people, that you never thought these kind of steps would be made without.  But it isn't just 4, it's 12!  It's looking at our children as their faces get a little older and words get a little wiser and realise that life is moving, not waiting for what you want.

I told David that closing a wound is often more painful than obtaining it.  I'm one who likes to huddle around my chaos like "a dog at it's food bowl.  'Mine, get away'"  I want to hold onto the pain, anger and hurt, because it means that I can't move on.  I can live in this moment and even if it is wrong, they are still with me.  Holding onto those emotions makes me feel like time has stopped, like there is still something I can do to change the situation.  When I release those emotions, when I let go...I'm closing the wound and letting God heal and saying, there was nothing more I could do. My pride tells me to keep it bleeding, keep trying to fix it, keep feeling. 

But today, through tears, I let God stitch those wounds. I will not rip the stitches out, which means I may have a big white plastic hood around my head, so I can't get to them (not literally of course, but if I'm acting out of sorts, picture that). I will move on. Ahead, as painful as it is, knowing that every time I look at the scars, they will ache, I will be tempted to cut them open again, but by God's mercy, may He move my hand gently away and onto something productive.
So to the 4, if you read this.  It's not goodbye, it's redefining.  It's reshaping the reality that we are now in.  And learning to live and love in that reality.

So excuse me, I have a Doctor to see.