I tend to keep this blog a safe distance from all things internal. It's not that I don't want you to know what I'm thinking......okay, it is. But ever since a casual artistic rendition of my personal life revealed that I have no metaphorical windows and doors open to my heart (stupid Freud!), I've come to realize that baby steps of authenticity just might be a healthy start to the new year.
So here it is. My heart hurts. I keep believing I have successfully numbed myself to the dreams and hopes of my heart, and then--out of the blue--I'm stung. The novocaine has worn off and I'm pierced.
Tonight was an ordinary night. But this time, all it took was the intro music to the John Adams mini-series dvd (amazing, by the way!) to dredge up every hope and dream I have. Dreams for Harvard, Princeton, or Yale. Desires to be a wife like Abigail was to John. And the hope to one day understand why my passion for history and education runs so deep.
And then there's the God card.
I've come to terms with the fact that even the most noble of desires may never get met. Truth be told, they probably won't. I'm even satisfied with the results of my intellectual wrestling match with the Lord--He gives us these desires. He makes them remain unmet longings for our entire life, yet He is not evil or vindictive in so doing.
And yet, I simply do not know my role in the matter. I've tried pursuing the dreams, but the sovereignty of God has kept them from fulfillment. And I've tried the route of avoidance--a perfect mixture of zero hope plus zero expectation--and wouldn't you know, the needle of pain still pricked.
And so this is me picking up the pieces and trying a new tactic. A tactic of trusting you with my story. I'll be honest--this hurts too. But God never promised a lack of pain. And so I trust and hope again.