Complicated Hope

There are days when words flow easily and quickly. Words become sentences and lead to paragraphs of coherent, intelligent thoughts.

Then there are days that each letter is a struggle. When the thoughts and emotions are so jumbled in my head and heart that my fingers cannot untangle them to create a stream of consciousness.

Father, take this mixed-up, jumbled-up, tossed and tumbled mind and refocus is to you. The emotions as are fluid, I am not able to determine exactly what I feel and I long to run to your arms and climb upon your lap and just sit. Let’s sit, Father. Together. Hold me. Let’s watch the fire in the fireplace and see the sunrise through the window. Tell me how you made the rainbow and how you made the camel. Whisper funny stories about creation and animals learning to walk. Stories about Adam and Eve and how they learned about leaves and trees and flowers and dogs and skunks.

I want to just be with you. To lay my head on your shoulder and sit. In silence. To feel the rough cotton of your robe upon my cheek and smell the fresh linen of your sash. I want to hear the steady rhythm of your breath and the constant beat of your heart. Whisper to me that the emotions I feel are good – they mean I’m alive. Assure me that they creativity of my mind is a good thing – you made me a creative being. In the silence of this room, let your presence be larger than my fear, deeper than my thoughts and greater than my burdens.

Give me Your words for My story. Write your story, God. Let the words be not about me, but about the Hope in You.

KB