I Know Who Holds My Hand

It's scary to write what's on my heart sometimes.  Somehow, we humans are trained to put up strong exteriors.  Somehow, even when people say it's okay to be real and to cry, it still doesn't seem like it is.  Somehow, the walls that we so swiftly construct are easier to build than they are to tear down. 

That's why, sometimes, I don't like what I write in my blog nearly as much as what I write in my personal journal.  When I take up a pen to let my thoughts flow onto my journal, I have no filter.  I let my thoughts and the deepest crevices of my heart bubble to the surface.  Sometimes, I barely know what I'm writing as I do, but when I look back, I am moved. 

Tonight might be different because tonight, my heart is overwhelmed by the strongest bittersweet emotion.  Time passes and each day closes as quickly as it began and I feel caught in an endless cycle of sameness.  But when I see the world around me, nothing looks familiar.  Everything is morphing and I recognize that my own sameness has fooled me.  Suddenly, nothing seems certain.  I feel so alone.

In the midst of it, I wonder if my years have taught me anything because I feel vulnerable and like I'm a little kid all over again.  I hate feeling vulnerable.  I like feeling strong.  I despise feeling out of control.  I want the reins.  I want to set the course.  I want to be in charge.

And then, I realize that I must be clay in God's hands.  This fighting and struggling and bickering and fearing won't do.  It won't make the unfamiliar known or slow the cycle of the days.  Nothing I try in my own strength will calm the flood of days that are passing swiftly before me.  Nothing but surrender.

I know Who holds my hand.  Christ Jesus is His name.  He is enough.  He is all I need.  He can surround me with His love.  He will never leave me.  He will never abandon me.  He will see me through.

I know Who holds my hand and that is all that matters.