It swells like the rising sea bottled within my chest, salty and torrid and mistily-grey. I swallow the sea down, praying my throat will serve as a lasso to choke it back to an "appropriate" size.
I have to let it go--
let it go spinning freely and wildly into Light.
I can do nothing on my own.
The Light will shine and weaken its power.
I have been trying to fight fear with optimism. Of course, I know that my "will to be optimistic" has no power over the reality of things, but I have still bought into some twisted idea that the Lord will provide for our needs through my will alone.
The reality that faces us is our diving headfirst into college ministry. The reality is support-raising. We have a goal, but there's no way to know when or how the Lord will provide for our financial goals, set forth by the ministry we work for. It is one of those epic times that each of us face throughout the course of our lives: marching into the dark, the unknown, with nothing but absolute trust and abandon at our side.
I, however, need a change of attitude, of heart.
I acknowledge, Father, that you alone are Sovereign.
I acknowledge that sometimes you do not give us what we want, and that sometimes you take away.
The amazing and wonderful reality is that when you choose not to give in the way we think we need, this action does not make you any less good or loving.
I trust that you will not give us stones. I know you have promised us bread.
Please give me the eyes to see that bread that you provide,
and not to interpret the bread for stones.