Thought-filled Thursday

Lam:3:11 He hath turned aside my ways, and pulled me in pieces: he hath made me desolate.
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I will not go down...

Psalm 16:9 Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope.
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As a writer I feel as if I am in my own little world within my head. Thoughts run like a freight train in circles until one end catches up with the other.

They circle like kids on a maypole these thoughts of mine and maybe I’ll be able to turn them into a story. The only problem is, these are not of the fictional tales these are downright gut wrenching life tales! Soul searching spiritual revelations!

I can’t remember a time in my life where things were just pleasant as a peacock. I mean, I’ve always strived for feeling good, Lord knows I’ve tried. Sometimes not always choosing the right method for feeling good, but I learned my lesson, moved on and became what I thought was a better person.

I drift through the aisles of the days like a fog laden morning. I wonder if the eggshells will break in my hand or will the mirror crack into a thousand pieces. I’m afraid to turn and look to see if what I’ve done has caused a train wreck, a disastrous train wreck that pummeled through my year and left only pieces to be cleaned up.

I hang here in the gallows of Christmas time scurrying here and there taking care of matters but what is this hanging on the boughs? It’s my sanity, dangling like a partridge in a pear tree, dangling like the clapper of a bell, back and forth, clinging, clanging to what it is that holds me here on this Earth.

I realize that nothing is as perfect as it seems and everything can use a little glue to hold destroyed bits and pieces together. Suppose it’s a lost part? I’m thinking you just either need a shiny new unblemished trinket, or enjoy the broken torn blanket that you carry and be grateful for having something warm and treasured to cling to.

You know what I’m saying? Why throw away the old, when what you have is here? Now! I’m not prefect, never will be, but then no one else is perfect either because we all have little bits of ourselves scattered around the years that could use a little bonding to pull us back together.

I’m tired of hurt, pain, disappointment. I’m living for the moment and whatever it slams into my face. If I break, I have the Lord to fill in the gaps and holes and in the end...I’ll mend.

A writer’s life is insanity.

(to be continued...)