It’s growing old. I’m getting tired.
All youthful naivety has fled,
Leaving behind a fervent cynicism & desperate hope to overcome it.
If I am a part of the Bride, the Body,
What happens when I begin to resent my own arm, leg, eye, mouth?
Confusion is a daily battle as I’m constantly left in wonder as to what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to be.
Unsure whether to fight or flee.
What once was a place of peace and rest now stirs up apprehension in my heart.
I know there is a place for the broken, the fixed, the sinner, the obedient, the faithful, & the struggling.
But what about a place for the different?
Is there a place for me?
2 comments:
Emily, Sounds like you're hurting at the moment. You're in my thoughts and prayers... Lindsay
Thanks Lindsay! Love you!
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