My bubble has been burst in the most painful, most excruciating way. Something I had been hoping for, praying for, fasting for, well that door slammed shut in my face. Just like that, with no regard for my efforts or my pain.
I know I’m supposed to rejoice because in the end it’s all re-direction. But today I don’t want to rejoice. Today I don’t feel like pretending everything is okay… or will be okay. Even if it will be.
Today, I just want to cry. And be angry. And feel sorry for myself. And drink wine until I pass out on my living room sofa.
I’m just that kind of disappointed today. I don’t want to find my faith. I don’t want to look at the bright side, I just want to wallow in my self pity.
And what will that accomplish? Absolutely nothing.
But at least it’s honest. It’s me honestly admitting that everything is not okay and that it is okay to cry. It is okay to feel it.
Its me choosing my human frailty over my superwoman facade… for once in my life. And after my pity party, provided I don’t stay there too long, healing can begin.
I know enough to know that there’s purpose in my pain. I know that “all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose” and so, though I may not understand, it is working for my good.
I know that intellectually. But today I can’t feel it. Today this closed door feels cruel.
So I will not pretend. I will tell the truth and shame the devil as my grandmother used to say.
I am not okay. And I am going to cry the night away and pray that joy comes in the morning.