A Year With God, Day 57 of 366

I have not posted a blog in two days.   I slipped up, and I will not try to make up those missing days.  Instead, I offer the insights I've found in myself.

I think I have lost sight of myself recently.  I feel like I’ve been worn down to the point where there’s almost nothing left.  Last night I would have said ‘There is nothing left,’ but somehow today, I know I’m still there.

There is a scene in ‘Memory’ by Lois McMaster Bujold (Yes, I quote her a lot—there’s a reason she’s my favorite author), where the main character is torn between the life he was born with, and the cover identity he’d created in the course of his work as a covert operative.  The scene goes something like this (quoting from Memory—ha,ha—so this isn’t exact):

He hears a voice in his head, and says, ‘Who are you?’.

The voice responds, ‘Who are you that asks?’

And suddenly he realizes that the spying and the stress and the politics and the adventure and confusion in his life are not what defines him.  Underneath all of that, he is still himself.  And from that realization, he can choose who he wants to be.

So, I am at that point today.  I have a little nugget of me-ness that I have found.  Now I have to define what I want to be.  And then work on getting that out of the little kernel in my soul and out to my skin.

I want to be:  Confident.  I’m trying to think of other things to make this a list, but that is all I can come up with right now.  That’s the biggest thing, I suppose.  To be me, and not apologize for it.

I want to be:  Confident, independent, dramatic—just a bit, creative, loving, able to make wise decisions.  I want the focus to work on my goals, to write my stories without getting distracted.  I want the self-confidence to finish what I start, and believe in what I’m writing, that I am good at it, and that others will read and enjoy what I write. 

I want to believe that what I write will touch someone’s heart and make a difference to them.  Even touching one person, one time, with one word would be enough, I think.  

I don’t relate much to Peter.  He seems impulsive, and I am rarely impulsive these days.  But I have to wonder how he felt after denying he knew Jesus.  I wonder he felt anything like I’ve been feeling.  Like if I could, I would shrink myself down to the size of a grain of sand, so I could lie on a beach with a million other grains of sand, and never be noticed.  So that the ocean could wear me down to nothing, and all my mistakes would vanish forever.

But Peter must have realized that it doesn’t matter.  God knows every hair on my head, and every leaf on every tree, and every grain of sand on every seashore.  There is no way to hide from God.

I fear that I will not be forgiven for my mistakes.  But, even more I fear being forgiven, as illogical as that might sound.  Because if I am forgiven—and I know God will forgive me—then somehow the expectations seem higher, and the potential for letting Him down, even greater.

And so I pray that God will forgive me, and that He will show me the way forward.