Real Street

(What follows is a huge dump of what’s been on my brain these past like 10 days and lurking for five months before that. Detour down heartbreakingly Real Street. And followed by a huge image dump. Post shortened for convenience.)

Sometimes I look at all the things I say I want to do and get overwhelmed by how very

very

very much I don’t even measure up to my own standard. Let alone God’s.

Grace, come find me in my moment of need. I feel like a failure sometimes (read: often) and though I know all-too well how very much is demanded of me, I can’t help but try to push those thoughts from my mind because I’m afraid of failure, of what other people think of me, of living at my full potential.

God help me, I am so afraid. I know what I’m called to and when I think about it my heart soars.. but when I see how little I have now and how much I fail with this little scrap I’ve been entrusted with.. my hopes come crashing down to earth once more.

And I feel so alone. I am so alone, in that I thirst for communion with believers and feel like I’m letting my family down and I don’t know anyone in this entire city beyond my coworkers who I’m trying to influence instead of be influenced by but they’re all so profoundly jaded that it’s hard to see how I can get through instead of having my soft heart be hardened to become just the same. And I’ve let time slip away from me so that I’ve let many of the people I value so much slide away and that’s another thing I’m failing at and I want to reach out but I’m afraid that if I do I’ll have nothing to say and they’ll see how messed up and broken I am.

And I feel so broken and alone.

It’s so much easier to bury my head in the sand and self-medicate with numbness, expending enough effort to maintain the status quo. Get up. Go to work. Read a book. Work all day. Come home. Crash. Repeat.

But my soul cries from within me, “Vanity!”

Because I know that I know that I know that I’m made for more than this.

I’m just… stuck. Homesick for a place that doesn’t exist.

Just as I’m about to suffocate on sand and lose myself to the numbness, I remember that I’m made for flying in the open sky. And I tear my head and breath the icy chill of the winter air and it hurts but it’s so fresh and real and I look at the sky and I start to hope, and I think of the pain of crashing to the ground and just as I am weighing the options….. I hear these voices

and they tell me

and I think to myself

once more.

once more will I spread my wings and fly.

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