Running [and getting nowhere fast]

I’ve been flaking, guys.  Sorry about that.  There’s been so much that I found easier to not deal with in the last few weeks and while I am trying, hesitantly, yet freely, I admit that I’ve been cowering in the corner.  I have (obviously) avoided this place (and all writing in general) because I know it sparks truth and uncovers hurt like I can’t do anywhere else. 

I have avoided reading my Bible the last few days because I’ve been afraid of what I might find there.  I feel like I was knocked two steps backward, and my pride is fighting to keep these words to myself.  But I’m fighting back. 

As “going home” peeked up over the Known and the Comfortable, I began to get a little anxious.  And though God has worked some amazing things in my heart so far, it seems there’s still a lot to break through.  I rest in His power to restore fully.  I have to say that it came all too naturally to run, to avoid feeling altogether, to flee from any sort of conflict that could possibly bear hard questions or open my heart to any kind of grieving or hurt I’ve previously deprived it of.  It just felt right to run.  I didn’t give it a second thought because that would mean thinking of further uncovering my heart where all the wounds are just in open air, and that’s getting a little old these days if I’m being honest. 

It’s wearing-- entirely exhausting.  Being vulnerable hurts.  Everywhere.  And for someone like me (someone it doesn’t come naturally to), it’s like forcing yourself into a pair of jeans that don’t quite fit.  You might get that zipper up and the button through, but let me tell you, walking around for an extended period of time like that is terribly uncomfortable. 

Being back with my family isn’t easy at all.  I’ve finally heard Him reminding me in the last 24 hours: This isn’t who I am.  I hide behind so much, but if He took it all away, I’d still be His.  And such a simple Truth is one I forget much too often. 

I’m still not ready to tell all of me, or all of what I’m going through now.  And truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll ever get close to doing that here.  But I do know that as old as it’s getting, uncovering the wounds is giving them room to breathe, and in that, I know there’s supposed to be healing.  Even if it’s slow. 

I know this isn’t much, and I know it’s vague, and I know I’m holding out on a lot and that I wasn’t supposed to be doing that here.  I don’t really know what to say, or I guess how to say it.  But I can leave with this: in everything that it is, God is filling it up even as I’m trying to hold it all inside of me, mostly because He’s still filling me up.