You've Stolen My Heart

When I look at the flippant blog I began last night but didn't have a chance to finish, it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I was trying to get off on a lighter note, be happy now that the good-byes are over and routine is starting to set in again. I can't.

Maybe I'm jumping ahead of myself, and maybe I'm even causing myself unnecessary pain; however, I cannot shake this feeling that my world is being smashed into smithereens. I keep telling myself that getting out of bed won't be so bad, but I can't bring myself to do it yet. Sometimes, just sitting in the silence with myself and God, reveling in the hurt. is what I need to help myself become stronger.

One of my favourite books, quoted very liberally, talks about how it's okay when someone gets mad because mad goes away, but hurt stays for a very long time and never quite fades. I'd rather be mad right now. Mad is so much easier to deal with.

I'm going to the gym soon. I didn't want to go to early because I want to stop at the school office first and I wanted the tour team to be gone already. Good-byes are not my forte these days. So the gym. Endorphins to the brain, hopefully helping my aching muscles, and I'm praying that I'll be good to go.

Or am I? It's amazing what it's taken for me to get into this place of desperately seeking God. Every time I feel the great sadness washing over me again, I pick up the Word until I can breathe again. And I talk to Him. Talk until I have nothing left to say and my heart picks up the slack and speaks for me.

So maybe this place of trial and hurt is exactly where I'm supposed to be. It's possible that this moment, right here, is why I even need to go through it. But either way, as incredibly hard as this is...I'm giving it up. Daily giving up the things I love most because I know He'll take care of me.