Ten Secrets

For lack of something more constant, I've decided to undertake this challenge: http://bloglovetherapy.blogspot.com/2012/10/10-day-you-challenge-seven-wants.html

It will probably be terribly fun, and I and others will enjoy it, but I shall only use it if I have nothing better to say.

Anyhow, for today is ten secrets.

Well, I don't really have that many secrets, I suppose.  Then again, anything I say could be taken as a secret, if you don't know me all that well.

1) I dream of publishing books, and being one of those famous authors.  Not the Stephanie Meyer kind - never - but the kind that writes a book that challenges all who read it.  A C. S. Lewis type of person.  Quotable.  Someone who is remembered years from now because I said something wise.  Perhaps even many somethings.

2) I desperately love stuffed animals.  I have a wicker chest filled with them.  Particularly sheep.

3) I also dream of being an amazing artist.  I am so far from it at this point, but someday, I would like to create in the realm of the physical some of the beautiful pictures I have in my head.

4) I've composed a tune for Rue's song, in The Hunger Games.  Perhaps someday I will record myself singing and playing it.  Perhaps not.

5) Speaking of dreams, I have so many, I am afraid that most will never be fulfilled.

6) I want to live in Japan for a year, so I can experience all four seasons, and all the mini cultural tweaks that go with the year.

7) I would dearly love to be married right now, but I am not mature enough for it.  I don't know enough to be a good wife.  I shall need an adventurous husband, who loves God, myself, and can put up with all my odd tendencies.

8) I am one of those start-many-projects-finish-only-one people.  Hence why this blog is only updated in fits and starts.

9) I speak to myself.  With accents.  And sing opera in the shower.

10) I am a pack rat, to some extent.

There.  These may or may not be secrets to you, or they might be.  Either way, you have just learned ten things about me.

Enjoy!

~Fumble

Fly

Soundtrack for today's post: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8D0vaiKq3TQ

Happiness.  Seems like a dream, just about, doesn't it?  I'm not sure about this all.  I've already decided to wait on God for my own, so it would be a shame to give up so suddenly.  Of course, I'm not really giving up.  Not yet, at least.  I'm not allowed to give up until I'm 35, right?

The only issue now is trust, isn't it?  It's so easy to trust God in the now thing - daily bread and all that - but somehow it's difficult to trust in Him and entrust Him with all the tomorrows I have.  He already knows what each day holds; is it really so hard to believe that He's got it all under control?

Well, for me, apparently, yes.  Yes it is.

I think I'm getting a little better, though.  I can smile back to the smile offered me, and think nothing of it.  You see, I've found that I don't need to think 24-7 about that guy that gave me five seconds of his time.  Oh, yes, the heart is so fickle, but I'm learning to have a thick skin, while still being soft inside.  I'm learning not to read ridiculous things into harmless gestures.  I'm learning that just because someone looks at me doesn't mean I have to respond.  I don't have to sell myself short into that way of life again.  You see, I know someone who knows it all.  I don't have to guess what tomorrow will bring, or try to control how it will turn out.  I don't have to do it on my own.

And you know what?

It's freeing.

~Fumble

Bourne

Oh dear.  I've done it again, haven't I?  I've convinced myself that I'm worthless.  Isn't that awful?

Only, this time, it's not for attention.  I'm past that - I hope.  I am so easily led to believe that my worth is tied into my performance.  So easily convinced that how well I do is a reflection of the way God made me.  I can't even live up to that, really; I can't do much right, can't honor Him much with my efforts, though I do earnestly try.

But that's the heart of it, isn't it?  I can't.

I can't, but He can.

The rest of the struggle is simply my own, because I want to do something on my own - I want to be on my own, be independent, be my own person, carefree and riding the back of the wind.

The biggest lie is that I have to give that all up to do what He wants me to do - that there is no place for such things in my walk with Him.  I may have to relinquish a thing, for a time, but every good and perfect gift comes from Him, right?  Why can't I simply believe that He has good things in store for me?  Why should it be so hard to believe Him, and so easy to believe everything else, including the worst of myself?

I tried, didn't I?  And I didn't get an A+, so I must be worthless, right?  How easily I fall down while trying to skate smoothly.  How easily I skin my knees and elbows, trying to catch myself, and fall down.  But my blood isn't the miracle His is.  Mine is only an imitation, a shallow sham of His greatest gift.  What should be a reminder is concealed behind layers of selfish hurt and pain.  Oh yes, how selfish I am with these things.  I never share, I never reveal, I only let them fester until, though no one can see them, the aroma dyes the air around me black and blue.

How easy it is to be lost within ourselves.  How easy to never look up, to never watch the sun rise, to ignore its setting.  How easy to forget that there is life beyond our skin.

And how pitiful is that?  To miss out on the greatest adventure, because of a scrape, because we so believe we need a band-aid for an invisible wound that manifests in our hearts?

I need to grow up.  Not to forget, not to forsake imagination, but to grow up, wake up, and open my eyes to the sky and the truth of the one who reigns in the ancient skies.

It's all or nothing.

~Fumble

My Redeemer Lives

There is a time for everything.

A time to be resigned, and a time to stand up and throw off the yoke of unfair blame.

Of course, now is not that time.  I don't think I could ever be so unkind to someone.  That's the problem with me...I'm rather good at resenting and telling a person off in my head, but I only very rarely will do so out loud.  You can bet, though, when I do, that person had done something I consider very wrong, perhaps even unpardonable.  Afterwards, though, I always feel like I'm a bad sport, and a rather rotten person.  Just for telling someone they were being disrespectful?  I am far too soft inside.  I need to cultivate that thicker skin, I think.

But that's me, isn't it?  I couldn't hold a grudge to save my life.  Give me a night of rest, and whatever bothered me the day before has been forgotten.  Certainly, I remember what has gone wrong, but I don't really have negative feeling about it any longer.  If I have done something wrong, I simply end up resolved to repent and ask forgiveness, or whatever it may take.  Sure, it's a little humiliating and humbling, but being a little disgruntled is a small price to pay for the freedom that comes when someone's forgiven you.  You feel like nothing in the world could ever go wrong again.

It's a rather nice feeling.  You know somewhere in the back of your mind that something bad will probably happen again, but you are so relieved with the release of tension and worry that you don't care about it for now.  Yes, there will be more times of regret and guilt, but that is part of life - part of being a loverly human being.  The important part is that we learn to rely on and trust God, and do what is right - not what is easy.

I'm rather tired, and I have a lot of school tomorrow morning, but I do have bright hopes for tomorrow.  His mercies are new every morning, and so is my heart, I think.

Here's to a sweet, holy sleep.

~Fumble

The World's Doing Just Fine Without Me

Yesterday I posted about how quickly things seem to change.  As if God's reply, some things did change.  Not necessarily the things I wanted to change, and it wasn't my timing - but that isn't the point, is it?

To summarize, I was *fired* this morning.  It wasn't a terrible affair, just my manager sitting down with me to explain why.  I hadn't been picking things up quickly enough, and he needed someone who could be in the front of the store working, without needing help.  So, he was letting me go, would call if he could use me in the future, and that was about it.  It wasn't unkind, just factual.  I didn't cry, and I doubt that I will.  Before getting the job, while getting the job, and before going to see the manager this morning, I prayed that God's will would be done with this job.  If He wanted me to keep it, he would make a way for me to do so.  If not, that would become clear inherently.

I confess that I am disappointed, but mainly with myself.  I feel as if I could have done better, but I'm not going to dwell on it for the rest of my life.  In the end, I trust God.  Implicitly.  Perhaps senselessly, by this world's standards, but His is the one trust that I can be sure of.  Only He is faithful.

So.  I'm sad about losing the job, but I feel peace about it.  I enjoyed the short time working there, and if nothing else, I learned enough that I could work at another place if I so desire, but I'm not going to desperately try to find another job.  I don't blame the manager, and I really don't blame myself all that much.  It was a first job, and I had never worked in that type of job before.  Of course it was going to take me longer to learn.  It's no one's fault.

Should I really be torn up and desolate over this?  I might have lost a job, but I'm alive, aren't I?  My family is in good health, I have a place to stay, and I'm in school, free of charge for this semester.

I am okay.

I can trust that God knows what is best for me, and I have already surrendered things into his hands.  Now is the true hard part - waiting.

If nothing else, I have confidence in my God.

And, really, that is all I need.

Now, I just need to rest in that.

~Fumble

A Life in His Hands

It's funny, isn't it?  How quickly things can change.  The little boy you loved and held is half grown, and away to places you still can't understand.  Where did that tender heart go?  Or is it only hiding?  And that wonderful old friend you met again?  Where are their hearts at now?  What has changed, and what never will?

I wish I could just take their faces in my hands, look closely, and see it all, and perhaps even understand.  I wish that by looking in their eyes, I could somehow bridge all the lost time between us, and that things could be sweet and young between us again, full of possibility.

The seasons of our life, how quickly they seem to change.  I can never get used to the change, for though I'm hoping for the next season, as I believe I'm tired of the one that has been, I realize only too late that I'm not ready to let go and begin again.  I keep forgetting that, though life springs anew each year, nothing is ever the same again.  Those times that have gone will still be gone, only the memory is further away now and the ache a little less.

I dearly - perhaps too dearly - love so many people, and for things to change is heartrending.  I break again and again, like the safety glass of the window in the college; a web of loving glass that has cracked, but refuses to be sharp lest someone get hurt.  It is the greatest mercy that I have God, for to whom else could I cling?  Who else would never change?  If there is nothing else good coming of the turmoil of my heart, it is enough that I draw closer and closer to God my strength.  I am certain that he is the only one who could hold my heart without having all the pieces fall apart.

I still long for those days past, where innocence was a way of life, not a question.  I am a traitor to myself, as I have changed as well.  I am not sure who this person is yet; I do not know where I am going.  These dreams, desires, and deep thoughts are only half-formed; still clay in the hands of the Potter.

My only consolation is that I can trust His Hands.

~Fumble

Mulled Cider - Or Is It?

Oh dear.  It's one of those times again, isn't it?

You know, the times where you finish looking at someone else's photos, or reading some else's story, and you despair that your own life is woefully and inadequately interesting.  Or, what happens more often in my case, you envy their happiness, because you never had a chance to be part of it.  Somewhere along the line, I got the idea that if I could be part of someone's life, they were supposed to make it so I could be there with them.

Yes, I'm a bad person.  I know that a thousand times over.  Like most human beings, I am very selfish, self-seeking, and ignorant.  The curse of the race, right?  Only, it's not quite in the same fashion.  You see, I enjoy seeing the happiness of others.  I get joy from looking at the beauty and color and liveliness and friendship that others get to experience.  I love it.

I love it a little too much, as it turns out.

You see, I enjoy it for the first half, then the regrets that plague my mind set in.  I regret that I wasn't there to share in the happiness someone else took part in.  I regret my life, because I've never been a conventional person; I was never one of the kids with a bunch of friends, or even the kid with a couple of best friends.  I didn't have that kinship to share in.  I had no bosom friend, if you want to think in terms of Anne of Green Gables.  I don't have the pictures, the stories, the memories of sleepovers or birthday parties.  I don't have the wild escapades to detail and exaggerate and share, then laugh over for the rest of my life.

I didn't have that kind of childhood.  And, as that was the case and there was nothing I could do about it, I turned to books.  Literature that gave me a window into what it was supposed to be like for little girls and teenagers who lived in nice neighborhoods and had others their age all around them that they could be friends with.  When you're growing up in the U of M area, and you just so happen to be female, you're already limited beyond belief.  Not to mention that most of the neighbors are older folk with their children long gone, or college-age people who party until late in the night and never show their faces otherwise.  You must understand this.  For a girl to grow up and be "best friends" with the older lady and her husband next door...surely this gives you an idea of my desperation.

You will understand, then, why books became my refuge, and why they still mean so much to me.  Certainly, as I got older, there were some other children; I went to a church, so there were a select few others that I was able to befriend, but seeing someone every Sunday morning for a couple of hours, then going right home isn't enough.  Anyone could tell you that.

I won't blame anyone.  That would be opening a can of worms I'd rather save for my deathbed, when I need to get away and fish one last time before I see true glory.  It is better now, as I am older and (hopefully) more mature.

But, as you now have a brief notion of where I come from, surely you understand a little of my jealousy.  I see the pictures others have, and I envy that which could have been mine.

I also grieve the loss of a life I have never - will never - know.  I don't have carefree days.  But that's a story for another time.

Huh.

It's funny how now, when I look back over what has been and, being who I am, brood and sorrow over the past, I begin to see in my past the hand of a mighty Person.  You see, me being irrevocably who He made me to be, I wouldn't have what I have with Him now.  God only knows my past - the truth of the matter, so to speak - and He's the only one I can think of to trust with my future.

Yeah.  I'm not conventional.  God made me to be different.  I am beginning to see that even in my tendency to mull over things and grieve for myself, His hand is at work.

I don't have all the pieces.  I doubt I ever will.  But they're resting in the hands of a Someone who cares infinitely about how they will fit together - just so, and unlike anyone else's.

I think I can live with that.

Without envy, and without regret.

~Fumble

A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste

With great knowledge comes great responsibility.  And terror.  And helplessness, foolishness, and terrible uncertainty as well.  Oh yes, and there's a bit of power involved, too.

You see, there's a bit more to that quote(or twistation of a quote...I just write these things as they come) then you see.  You know, because you have to read between the lines?  Or the letters?  Or just make up the first thing that comes to mind and forever associate something meaningless to something that should have great meaning, because you were young and foolish?  Or, you could write run-on sentences like I do, and ramble about until you reach some sort of conclusion about something in your life.

No, this time, I am sadly serious.  Morbidly, in fact.  Those who know have the greatest burden of all, and I am afraid that I am beginning to understand it.  You see, it is a privilege to know, but also a great curse as well.  You begin to understand things about people, and your view of them changes.  If you're not careful, the relationship breaks - all because you know something.  You see, when we know the problems of others, it becomes far too easy to wonder why they have so many problems, and wonder why it must be so complicated.  I begin to wonder why they have so many troubles in comparison to me, as my life suddenly seems perfect next to theirs.  But, of course, it doesn't really work that way.  We only gain perspective, as twisted as it might be, by viewing others through our rose-colored glasses.(Though I myself fancy I view others through grass-colored glasses; they're cheaper.  Depression Era glass!)

Then, as we view those around us, we begin to know them.  This happens especially as we grow up and revelations of things that have happened in our childhood come upon us.  For instance, today I realized that an incident in my childhood might not have been my fault.  In a class which I enjoyed, I suppose the teacher thought I was getting a little too high up - helping the others and so on.  She had me sit out for a time, which was the ultimate shame.  No one ever sat for a timeout until they had done something dreadful.  I, being a normal child, thought it was my fault, and commenced to become the model(Or close to model, I guess.  I don't tend toward perfection, as the second law of Maryodynamics states.) student, and do all things right, and never, ever seek to usurp the teacher's role in the classroom.

Lo and behold today, as I was talking with my mother about the teacher, she revealed something that she had noticed about the teacher - the fact that she was a bit of a control freak.  (Enter ray of sunshine hitting me face, light bulb effect, all that wonderful stuff)  I realized that I might have been simply trying to help, and not be a "teacher", and that she probably overreacted.  An adult made a mistake, and I suffered.  What a revelation!

Why?  Because, as a child, you believe that adults are perfect, especially Mother and Father.  They are always right, and if you are punished, it is probably because you did something wrong.  Not them.  They are NEVER at fault.  That goes against the rules of a child's heart, as their minds are not functional in that sort of way at that time.  Oh, certainly the child will harbor resentment toward the adult, but the truth of the matter is, they will nearly always assign blame to themselves.  At least, I would.  Perhaps I was an abnormal child, but I don't fancy myself that way, so I don't think so.

It is perhaps one of the biggest surprises in growing up, in beginning to view parents as respected older ones, and not as absolute gods.  You see things, gain knowledge.  Then, one day, you come to the horrible realization that your parents, however amazing they might be, are not perfect.  In fact, they are far from it.  It becomes hard, then, because you must view your parents as people, not some higher being you styled them as in your mind.

After that, all sorts of knowledge comes, and with that knowledge come a series of hard choices.  These are the teenage years, and they are difficult.  One is becoming the person they will be for perhaps the rest of their lives.  And these years are riddled with discomfort and painful truths.

I suppose it's a wonder we all don't have more problems, but as one who sees through grass-colored glasses, I try desperately not to judge.  I do not want to be judged - or worse, known - as I am, but more as I want to become.  It is never too late to change, and God knows that better than I ever will.

So, after all, I am safe in the knowledge that God knows it all.  If He can handle all that and still manage to be my heavenly Father, then I think I can trust him with the things I know, whether I'd rather know them or not.

Who else could I go to?  Who else would even understand?

Yeah.  I know.

~Fumble

Grief

A short piece I wrote, dedicated to someone I know who very recently died of cancer...

http://tyrison.deviantart.com/#/d4wfohi

We grieve with hope...

~Fumble

Dodge

The reason we seclude ourselves - it's really because it is safer then being out in the open, then wearing our hearts on our sleeves. Granted, not everyone experiences things as deeply as I do, but...I hurt so very easily. I had to learn how to protect my own heart, and the best way was to cloister myself. It wasn't hard - after all, once you become an outsider, you forever gravitate toward that side of the fence. It's just easier, that's all - to be anonymous is to be safe.

I've learnt so very much about myself, and yet I realize over and over I have a long ways to go. If only it was as easy as driving through a rainstorm, dodging raindrops...

Of course, I'd love to make this post long-winded, but the truth is that I'm far too often lost for words. This is all that makes sense, at the moment, and I'd rather not bear what I newly understand to everyone. Doubtless I would be judged by those who know me, and it wouldn't end well. I'm not so afraid of the judgement, only the forever distaste they have for me afterward. Yes, I act differently, I don't always make the best decisions - but did you ever wonder about the person behind the mistake?

I didn't think so, either.

Is that enough to think on? Is it enough to make a small change, enough of a butterfly wing-flap to make a difference somewhere else?

I reverently, dearly hope so.

~Fumble

These Worldly Vain Affections

I know it's selfish...and yet I can't help wanting your time, your attention.

I see how you have a big heart - how you care for so many people. It's not a bad thing...I'm like that, too, only I wanted so much more from you. I wanted to be cared for, as you care for others. Even if I don't have a terrible past, or a great testimony, I wanted to be loved as someone who has experienced the depth of the hell that is the world, and is on the way up, by God's grace.

I wanted to be loved as someone who never knew that love before, and now is finally experiencing it for the first time. As someone who was broken. Going through the depravity of life, then understanding what I was missing all along - that is what I want to know, what I want you to know.

But that's not how it works.

And I'll never tell you so, because I so desperately want you to see me as unselfish.

I'll keep all these thoughts, because they are so selfish. These self-seeking dreams...

It's still missing, though.

~Fumble

The Burning Bush

Just another one of those days - and I realize a lot of things about myself. For one thing, I am terrible at making friends. I tend to retreat into myself and become shy and quiet. If you know me, that would probably surprise you, as I am very extroverted with people I know. No, it's the commencement that gets me.

Also...I don't do well in big parties(think grad. parties, baby showers, etc...). I tend to want to go off by myself and pass the time by reading or, in this case, staring at a beautiful painting. In my defense, the painting was amazing; it had so much to look at, and there was always something new to see. I love painting very much, perhaps because I'm so terrible at it. It's one of those things you try and try and try, and nothing good ever really comes of it. My paintings would make the babies cry. I'm okay with that, but...I do get just a little jealous of people who can paint, and do it well, too.

There are also the times when something is, quite simply, different from the way I or my family do things - and on the rare occasion I will wish that it could be that way for me. Of course, this is merely my sentimental side coming through. I doubt many people, even if they might be very sensitive, could understand the depth of my sentimentality. It scares even me sometimes. I get stuck on things, objects, a moment in time - a book, a character from it. I tend to resist change with all I have.

I recently gave up on a dream that was always very close to my heart - I won't go into detail, but it was a matter of letting go of my sentimentality and giving it up into God's hands. I'm not forever quitting this dream, but for the time being...I won't have anything to do with it. Believe me, now that I'm on the other side, I understand, and can live with it; it only stings occasionally.

But getting to that place? It was probably one of the hardest things I've had to do. There are addictions, and then there are obsessions - this was one of the latter, if I am honest. An unhealthy infatuation with something that brought me nothing good - and yet it was such a core part of who I consider myself to be, and what I think lies in my heart. I'm not so good at knowing myself yet, y'know?

I think that might have been the first time I've really experienced a little of what heartbreak is. And no, not in some silly sense, not really. I realize how blessed I've been in my life; yes, I've been sheltered, but it's not such a bad thing.

My heart hurts easily - I've come to terms with that fact. It doesn't mean it heals quickly, too, but that's really my decision, isn't it? It will still hurt, but I can choose to let it go. It's an amazing thing, when you realize, then understand, that your pain doesn't have to define who you are. I don't have to be damaged goods, a continually broken heart. With God's help, I can move past that - that's the only reason I can.

I love that God doesn't control everything - He gives me the choice to move forward, but doesn't force me to. He doesn't promise that it will be easy or painless, but He promises to be there, beside me, carrying me, supporting me.

You know something?

It's enough.

I can live with it, so long as I have Him. I really, really can.

However many times this Fumblebee hits the window...at least it'll be picked up and given another chance.

~Fumble

If I Could Just See Your Face

How great the pain of searing loss? How great the pain of betreyal - those who said, "Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you."(NIV, Matthew 26:35) Even these would flee - even Peter, who swore he would not leave - even he was conquered by fear.

How heartbreaking to hear these words, and know for an absolute truth that they were only human, that they would not stand by You when the time came.

It blows my mind that this is what they said to the Son of God, and then they deserted Him. Immediately after this, He goes to pray at Gethsemane - but first He says to the disciples, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death..."(NIV, Matthew 26:38) He prays to the point of sweating blood - He asks His Father to take this cup from Him. But, He also prays that God's will be done - not His own. Jesus knows what is to come, and yet He submits to His Father.

Jesus went through every sin - He became every sin; He experienced it all. I know I have yet to understand the depth of the hell Jesus went through. When I think of every sin I've committed, and think of Jesus undergoing that all at one time, I am daunted. Then, to imagine the sins of every person that ever was or will be resting on Him, all at the same time.

I do not understand. I do not comprehend.

Maybe I never will.

But, to know that, at the very least, Jesus took on all my sin at once - takes on my daily, hourly sins - that, in itself, is amazing. I, as a human who shrinks from anything relatively

Who else would care? Who else could even care?

I praise You, Jesus, because You would not run - even though those closest to You, Your beloved disciples, turned their backs, You would not do the same to me. I praise You, thank You, worship You. I give you my life as a living sacrifice, though I fall day after day. I give you my puny faith, my feeble prayers, all of my failings, joys, talents, dreams, my future, my shambles of a heart, everything I dare call my "own".

It's all I can do to reciprocate the gift that cannot be repaid, that can never be out-given or out-ranked.

~Fumble

Silent Night, Holy Night

I suppose you would think of me as foolish. Doubtless, you'd do the same as any parent would, and tell me to get to bed before I get my hide tanned. I wouldn't blame you; not really, because my sensible side, if there is such a thing, would agree with you. There is something quite achingly beautiful about a quiet, peaceful snowfall that smooths the events of the day over, and brings a sort of lonely peace, like a piano playing by itself, knowing that it has to provide all the counter-melodies and feelings.

This is one of those things I most wish to share. I suppose you could say it's one of those facets of my person, and this one in particular sits near the "romantic" facet. It's the stories like these, which aren't overly passionate or romantic, but sweet in their simplicity. I think the most beautiful proclamation of love is from a book that isn't romantic in the least. It means so much more when it's not uttered every few minutes. The phrase, "I love you," is a precious one, if only because of its rarity. What's so important? True love, of course.

I don't mean to forever ramble about loneliness, but it's one of those ever present things. I know God is always with me, beside me, but it is not good for a man to be alone, much less a woman, or even a half-mature, half-grown girl such as myself. Our dear Savior, in His kindness, saw fit to provide us with friends, family, so on...it's just only a little hard to wait for what He has in store.

The best might be yet to come, but as a forever reminder of my humanity, I always want the best now, so I can share a quiet night with him in the holy silence of a secret snowfall.

~Fumble

"Together"

It's funny, isn't it?

How much someone can hide behind their smiles, their laughter, their so-called joy? You can go your entire life thinking someone never had any regrets, only to find that, caught in the middle of a regret too great to stand up to, they decide to take the easy way out, without saying goodbye. I find that it's usually the people who appear the most "together" who are broken into the most pieces. When you're that shattered, all the tiny pieces move like the skin of water, so fluidly you'd never guess at the poison hiding between the molecules.

Why is that? Is it because, when we aren't so broken, it's easier to show, easier to relax, and let others know we're not perfect? I don't think so. Brokenness is brokenness, and the magnitude of it has nothing to do with the amount of scar tissue left over.

Am I "together"? Do I seem that way to you? To be very blatantly honest, there is quite a lot of myself that I don't show, and as of yet, it works that way. I long for the day when I can show the entirety of my person to someone, but for right now, learning anew every morning that God knows and understands every part of my being is enough. There is a section of a verse that causes me to weep every time I read it, because I realize, over and over, that God understands the turmoil that is my heart; he understands the agony of being misunderstood.

"I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul."
~Psalm 31:7, emphasis mine

How astounding is that? God understands the agonies, whether small or big, of our souls - he understands, he comprehends, he knows.

How amazing Jesus is, and how tenderly he moves upon my heart! He knows my heart, my person, my character, my thoughts; it was no secret from Him when I was created; I will praise Him because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; I praise Him because he knows every facet of my being, and sees fit to touch my heart in a way that is so beautiful, and so simple.

How can I be merely "together" when I am rent asunder before His loving gaze?

~Fumble