Time: A few minutes after Seven in the morning.
Place: A small hotel room.
Lloyd is sitted at a cluttered, uneven legged table-clothed desk. He is scribbling in a blue, hard backed exercise book. He is wiping at his nose, he is mumbling to himself, he is almost near tears. Tears? Yes, tears. But why on earth tears? Because he is picking at old wounds that he had long since forgotten. Long since thought had been adequately been dealt with by...well, by being quite adequately ignored into non-existence. Little did he know that God was just waiting for the right time. How often we forget that God forgets nothing. Nothing but forgiven sins. But what is he writing? What is he scribbling so furiously? Hmmm, Let's find out, shall we? It's not hard. All you have to do is lean over his shoulder and have yourself a little peek...
“...I Trusted you to protect me. I trusted you to keep me from harm. I took you at your word when you said that you would never give me more than I could handle. I was fourteen. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I couldn't tell what was real and what was not. I wasn't ready. I know that you know best, but you should have known better. Because ten years down the line and I'm still afraid. Still afraid to take the plunge, still afraid to experience you in a way that Ive never experienced anything else before. Still afraid of getting lost, truly lost in the expanse that is your majesty...the landscape that is your glory. Still afraid that getting lost in you would mean losing myself...maybe even losing my mind...and never finding it again. Because the last time I trusted you. Truly trusted you with everything and every square inch of my being, I felt betrayed, I felt lied to. I felt you threw into question my very sanity and for a very long time I resented you for it. And the fact is, I still do...”
***
They say that there is power in pain. That you can not be molded and hardened unless you've passed through fire. Well who ever they were, where ever they are, when ever they said it; they were right. This weekend has been exhausting. It's been amazing. It's been uncomfortable. It's been heart breaking. It's been tumultuous. It's been an experience I will never forget.
And as I write this, it is not the end of the retreat but the beginning. The beginning of something...breath taking. Breath taking being the only word I can think of because that is exactly how I feel; breath taken. Taken in such a way that I never want to be given back. He can have it. He can have it all. Because as drained as I feel, I feel at peace. As right as rain. As if God himself walked right up to me and said, “Son, today I make you the luckiest man alive.” And you know what the most amazing thing is? That's exactly what's happened. Only that luck has nothing to do with it. And so if keeping this feeling means losing everything else, then you can count me in. Hell, you can count me twice. Because the way I see it, losing everything, or what we as “us” perceive to be “Everything”, mind inclusive...would only mean that from there on in, I would have no other option but to gain. But to be given. And if there's one thing Ive learned this weekend, it's that God never gives anyone anything store bought. or processed. or diluted. He doesn't know how to. He gives you a hundred percent of exactly what you need. And do you know why? Because he's a hundred percent pure. He can never do anything less than 100%. He can never do anything less than perfect. A comforting thought considering the imperfect world we live in. But before I veer too much off tangent, I think I should end here. Especially since it's Two Forty-Six in the AM. But as head throbbingly tired as I am though, it feels pretty darn good to be up at such an ungodly hour writing about well, God. Hell, just to be writing at all. Ive missed this. Thank you for breaking the damn big guy...I owe ya.
Nitey.
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