This year will mark my last year in my 50’s. It’s such a strange thought. So much of what rattles around inside of my head can hardly be the sum of almost sixty years of life. Yet, here I am, much closer to the ending of my story than to the beginning.
It seems hard to fathom that I have forgotten more of the events that have taken place over these years than I could possibly remember. I have never retained as well as some, bumbling through my life oblivious to much of my surroundings.
I had a dream recently about a childhood friend, one I haven’t spoken to in at least 14 years. This friend became angry at me about many things, never truly understanding me for who I am, for the whole of how my heart works. And, I cannot place the blame on her. In reality, only the Lord truly understands me. I have spent my entire life withholding part of who I am from others. And, I do not mean this to say there is some deep darkness lurking beneath my surface. Much to the contrary, I have just learned over the years that part of who I am is for me alone.
This friend had come to see me. I have no idea why. It wasn’t to renew our relationship, but moreover it seemed she was in search of some part of me and of my story since our less than friendly parting of ways. And, as I awoke, she still had not found whatever it was she was looking for.
I am apt to share things about myself with others. But, few see me for who I am. My family, to some extent, know me well. But, even then I hold myself.
In the beginning God created. He made every nook and cranny of this earth. He made us with feelings and intellect and the desire to be social.
He formed me in my mother’s womb. He knew how I would think and feel and interact. He knew the places I would go and the people I would love. He knew that I have never been one who desired to fit in, but rather I have always just wanted to be myself regardless of the thoughts of others.
He knew the depth of my feelings and He also knew the shallowness of them as well.
Everything related to me can be traced back to His creative hand. Perhaps this alone accounts for the comfort I only feel in His presence.
My Creator.
