Mistakes

Mistakes. I make them. Part of life is trial and error. It is not purposeful, but sometimes it is. Just trying and seeing and realizing what is and what isn’t. I teeter in my balance from stepping out from the paralysis of fear, to waiting in patience, while maintaining hope, though all goes against my hope. It hurts. It’s not safe.

I don’t want to go through the motions or let passivity take my hand. I want the courage to step into reality and to try. I don’t want to wait in paralysis. But I don’t want to step out in presumption. I will wait. I will step out. I will hold back. I will give in.

And many voices call out to me. But I will choose to listen to and believe the voice of truth.

And in my pain, I will get comfortable. Because to break will hurt, but to break is the only way to take me away from myself and to become what I am meant to become.

And in my fall from perfection, I question, do I believe? Do I hate him? The one who heals me? The one who’s grace I fall from? Will he take me back?

But the love is extravagant. The friendship is intimate. He will. I am taken into the secret place. And there I will sit among the sweet fragrance of the grace around me.

And my heart is captured again.

Never safe.

But enveloped in loving hands.

Faithful and true. Unchanging. Good.

So, adieu fear and regret and paralysis and discouragement and hypocrisy and trouble of all kinds . . . you are no longer my friend.

But, rather, I welcome truth and courage and patience and sacrifice and trust and love and power and redemption and rest and grace. Oh, grace.

And turn me around. Bring me back.

And strength does rise as I wait upon Him.

And I trade it all for joy. Sweet, sweet joy.