Friday, October 31, 2003

Please speak slowly
my heart is learning
teach me, heartache
stop this burning....

The All-American Rejects

After talking with my stepdad about the "issue of sensitivity" which had been viciously mauling my consciousness for nearly a month, I came home feeling quite relieved, and safe, and protected. I had been meaning to talk to my stepsister about the issue before going to my stepdad, just to get her opinion, but had been unable to get ahold of her. When I got home, there was a message from her, so I called her right back.

We talked for a while about the issue at hand, and then I told her about my conversation with her dad, whereupon she said something I hadn't thought of before.

"I bet it made dad really happy, for you to entrust him with this. He loves his daughters, that includes you and Chifunda, and he would love to be able to help you."

And then I realized that I had never needed him. We had co-existed, we got along, we were family, but I didn't need him. He had never had the opportunity to play father to me, because I was independent, and I had a father already.

But that night I had needed his help. He was the only one who couldhelp me. He was the only one I could trust. And I had known the previous week that if I could only find the time to talk to him, if I could only tell him what was wrong, everything would be okay, and he would carry that burden away from me and I could finally sleep in peace.

I put the phone down and sat in thought for a few moments. Asking for help has never been easy for me. I learned very young to find my own solutions. I learned that there were no favours, that everyone requires repayment. I thought that I could remain free of obligation if I just took care of my own problems. I guess maybe that's where my pride comes from. I guess maybe that's why I refuse to go to God when I'm desperate, when I know that I can't possibly help myself any longer.

But don't you think.... don't you think that my stepdad's joy is miniscule in comparison to the desire God must have to be my salvation? What are the odds..... that if I would come to God, He would not look at me as a nuisance, a helpless annoyance that needs assistance YET AGAIN, but as a daughter who He is thrilled to provide YET MORE assistance to....

I don't think He ever gets tired of it. I get tired of it. I don't want to ask for help. I somehow manage to take my understanding and expectations of my human relationships and try to lock God up in them.

Do I know right now that He's the only one who can help me? That if I can only get to Him, tell Him how I can't save myself from my life, how I need Him to fix it all...... That if I can only tell Him, that then He'd carry this burden away from me and I could sleep in peace?

Do I know that? Can I lay down my independence, my stubborness, my pride, and just tell Him I'm bound to fail miserably and be consumed by this earth if He doesn't step in and lift me out of it?

He is the only One who can help me. There is no one else. So what's my problem??

It's that damned pride. It'll get you every time. Word to the wise. Pride is a killer. Nip it in the bud.


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