The dust…everywhere the dust… Cleaning seems futile. Why do this?
I get tired of cleaning up messes that I didn’t make.
I’m left wondering when “I forgot” or “I’ll do it later” ceases to be an acceptable excuse?
Feelings well up in me, of being under-appreciated or not truly heard.
It is easy to allow the day to day to feel like an obligation instead of a ministry of love.
These moments that cause me to careen back and forth…feeling sick with resentment.
The reigns of control bite deep into my hands.
I gasp the pain.
The hole in the delicate fabric of this life, rips.
I clearly hear the sound. It screams, ugly.
The words, whispered from the deceiver, prick my ear.
Weariness. Anger. Resentment.
A sharp tongue, and an even sharper heart. Fissures of frustration allow the love to ooze out, leaving empty.
I leak the sin…
And then, in the midst of those sly whispers, I hear even more strongly, the Word.
Truth, speaks.
It pierces through this cracked heart of mine. It penetrates deeply to my very spirit
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I’ve been in that place, sister. One time when I was cleaning the gunk from the topside of my kitchen cabinets I grumbled, “I don’t remember signing up for this!” No, I didn’t. But I needed that gunky job to teach me a similar lesson — that there is glory for God in even the mundane and humbling circumstances, I have have the courage, and humility, to act out the truth I claim to believe.
You are such an expressive writer. And you convey your emotions so easily and freely and I can know immediately what’s going on with you. You have such an expressive vocabulary and your metaphors embellish your words on the page. Thank you for sharing your heart. BTW I absolutely LOVED your heading picture. Once more, I can see in my minds eye across a cold, barren, Iowa countryside in winter. I love it. Thank you, Dawn. God bless.