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The Wilderness of Loneliness

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 Smack dab in the wilderness of Loneliness

Lately, I have been pretty much lonely. I often thought of past lovers and almost-lovers and how things could have turned out differently if I did this, and that. I stalked these oblivious men. I tracked their statuses and photos to see their ladies. Pathetic, I know. Still, I would continue on and bask in self-pity. My brain would burst in inquiries of the things I did wrong and those which I did not do. I would relive the past in my head, trying to comprehend and to remember.

A life of celibacy and single hood scared me. As a matter of fact, it continues to haunt me. I could not, for the life of me, embrace this sort of life. It is frightening.

Reeking of desperation and low self-esteem, I looked to others for validation. I wanted to be wanted. I needed to be needed. I loved to be loved. What a fool I had been! Someone wants me, loves me, and is serious enough to have a hankering for a relationship with me. Unbelievable!

He, too, endured the long road of loneliness. He suffered a great deal. It was truly painful and he did it to please his Daddy. He is a superhuman, a love machine, the most beautiful thing the world has ever seen. And he wants me, my entirety. Oh love is never blind... it sees.

Lightbulb

"If your heart takes more pleasure in reading novels, or watching TV, or going to the movies, or talking to friends, rather than just sitting alone with God and embracing Him, sharing His cares and His burdens, weeping and rejoicing with Him, then how are you going to handle forever and ever in His presence? You’d be bored to tears in heaven, if you’re not ecstatic about God now!"

— Keith Green

Hardly///

Unlike this blog, I'm never abandoned, never forgotten.

Inked in the palm of my Maker's Hand, my name exhibits grace.

Make me a cake.

Nothing in the House

-Amy Carmichael

Thy servant, Lord, hath nothing in the house,

Not even one small pot of common oil;

For he who never cometh but to spoil

Hath raided my poor house again, again,

That ruthless strong man armed, whom men call Pain.

I thought that I had courage in the house,

And patience to be quiet and endure,

And sometimes happy songs; now I am sure

Thy servant truly hath not anything,

And see, my song-bird hath a broken wing.

                 . . . .

My servant, I have come into the house---

I who know Pain's extremity so well

That there can never be the need to tell

His power to make the flesh and spirit quail:

Have I not felt the scourge, the thorn, the nail?

And I, his Conqueror, am in the house,

Let not your heart be troubled: do not fear:

Why shouldst thou, child of Mine, if I am here?

My touch will heal thy song-bird's broken wing,

And he shall have a braver song to sing.

Hope is never outdated

oh this sweet madness

on being normal

Until you let go of all these things you hold
You gotta let go and watch your life unfold
You're part of a grand design bigger than what you had in mind
But you’ll never know, you’ll never know
Until you let it go