Homesick.

Sometimes I feel like a little kid running away from everything I’m told is good for me; from that Bible verse that says, “Whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.”, from everything my parents taught me was right, from the very God who created me and everything around me, even though I know He’s the only one who makes any sense in this life.

Every time I come back into His presence I wonder how I ever thought it was a good idea to run toward the darkness, toward the bitterness, toward the feelings of self-pity, alternating with feelings of self-righteousness, to run toward that horrible Frank Sinatra song about doing it my way, when in reality my way sucks, but still I wander off again, easily distracted by shiny things in the distance, only to find that they won’t satisfy.

Sometimes I get so lost in the dark woods of the world that I don’t know if I’ll ever get back Home, and I beat myself up for leaving to begin with, wondering if my Father will ever forgive me, or if I’ve gone too deep to ever get back to where I used to be, but the minute I call for my Daddy, He always comes marching into the darkness to get me, never demanding that I come out of the woods first, which is great because my chances of ever making it out of the woods on my own are slim to none.

 

 

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