Dear Mom,
It's been months since I've put pen to paper. Months since I've stepped into a church. One might have thought that the waters would have calmed, but, instead, I was bashed against the rocks, rattled again by wave after wave.
Did I get up?
I think I just went limp, went numb, played dead. Though I've been
sin-
king,
sinking,
sinking,
You have never allowed me to drown. I deemed my word of the year as "rejection," but I know there is a better mantra that You have for me.
Not a year of rejection, but a lifetime of Fullness.
I feel rejection's fingertips pinching my throat.
I want to feel Your palms cupping my heart.
Afraid, afraid. I am so afraid of losing more people, my dreams, my job. And who leads this parade? Shame and inadequacy are the orchestrators. I am so black and white and it's so difficult to accept the marriage of perfection and imperfection in this striped church. Stripes of black and white are jail bars. Please show me how to blend and bend these bars. Make my heart more gray, a home where a heart can safely stay. Fullness, fullness! A lifetime of fullness against a backdrop of grayish! Please paint me into such a picture. Grow, nourish us a garden of gray!
YOU ARE READING
Paint Us Gray: Part 2
Poetry(This is part 2; please read part 1 first!) Rejection. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Grief. Unfortunately, we've all had a swallow, some more than others, of this bitter brew. This is just a sliver of my chapter that is a part of this world's grand nar...
