Unbury Yourself

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Let me rest where the flower falls.

I write so often that I forget the reason I do it.

I’m not perfect and I don’t see a point in seeking that kind of affirmation from myself. I am well aware that God is the perfect one. I want Him to remain perfect. I want Him to remain almighty; I need Him to be the strength I don’t want to be. I want to learn from Him and fail over and over again. I want to remind myself of  His power so that I seek Him when I am powerless. I don’t want to be the source of what I need from a Father.

I am aware that people look at me blankly. I am aware that I am confusing, and I make really big mistakes. I don’t believe in buildings, though they appear to stand above us all. I don’t believe in trees, though they seem to help people breathe. I don’t believe in a lot of things that my friends think they need. I believe in the ability to make-believe and I know it’s more real than the strokes of a pen in an old woman’s hand, as she fills in the blanks of my diagnosis. I see things differently than a lot of people do, and I search deeper within myself then I should dare go. I don’t want to live through motionlessness movements. I’ve been told more times than permissible to just keep going and don’t give up, but I want to give up so I can finally pick myself back up.

I lost me. Somewhere in the trees, I think my smile hit the ground, and I just can’t find it. I’m not unhappy and the sides of my mouth still tilt upward. I don’t understand the word “happy” and even if its definition made sense to me, my heart would still disagree. Trust me, I’ve tried to understand. I don’t think people who are turned away by my lack of sense, realize that I could be just like them if I wanted to. I don’t even like their color, or maybe I would draw with their crayons. I am just not that interested in a life of shapes and lines – I need to be misunderstood in order to make sense of anything.

When I close my eyes I don’t see what other people see. I’ve always seen things a little differently, and I think that’s okay. Even if it wasn’t okay though, I wouldn’t be able to change it, so really the screamers should just leave me alone. My Christian friends shout “Trust The Lord” yet they strive to change my mind as if He can’t be trusted. I do trust Him. Not with everything yet, but I’m trying. I give something up every day, and I run in circles until I remember that I can stop and pray.

I used to go out with Jesus. We would hold hands and walk and talk like the best kind of friends. We walked the line of the ocean one night, and it was beautiful. He uncovered the sea-life just for that moment, and it’s a moment I can never circle back to. I’ve climbed mountains with God by my side. He told me where to step, where not to go, and what trails to avoid, and how to drive in the snow.

Now when I drive in the snow, I panic. It’s as if everything He taught me suddenly toned out deaf. On days like today, I wake up and try really hard to find something that I already found. I need to remind myself of REST —> Release. Every. Single. Thing. -NSF

Today, REST is the truth I am living after. Perhaps God can be God today, and I can be the only version of myself there is, rather than the “better version” I’m mindlessly told is out there.  I’ll REST in the knowledge that God is perfect and I am not, and that grace isn’t far away. Nothing I do or don’t do impacts God’s thoughts towards me. So then, if I have faith in Christ to be my strength and make room for myself to fail, then I guess I’m doing pretty okay.

Progress, not perfection.

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