A conversation with my Daddy

Dear God,

                 I am feeling very sad and empty this morning and I am not sure why that is.  I just wish I could break this sadness.  Maybe I am supposed to be sad today.  Really, God, I just want to climb up in Your lap and cry.  I am not even sure what it is I want to cry about.

                  I have been putting myself out there and being vulnerable and maybe that is what is causing the empty feeling.  Maybe that feeling is more of a vulnerability than an emptiness.

                  Lord, please tell me what it is You want me to hear.


"Oh, My daughter!"

*I lean my head into Your chest and pull my knees up to my own as I burrow into Your lap.  Your strong arms gather me into You.  You lean Your forehead down and rest it atop my head as You breathe in my child scent.*

"My beautiful, beloved daughter!"

You say not much louder than a whisper.

"This little girl inside of you who feels so empty, who longs for love, who aches for acceptance and safety; the one you don't know how to quiet or fulfill, this little girl who has you climbing into My lap; I am enough for her and for you.  

Feel my arms of protection wrapped tight around you.  Listen to my heart that beats for you.  Breathe in deep my sweet scent of peace, let it fill your lungs.  Oh little one, know Me, rest in Me, and let the knowledge of who I am fill all of these aching empty spaces.  May that raw open feeling of vulnerability be replaced with the security of knowing just how securely You are held in My hands."

*Long held tears empty themselves out, wetting His robe that lies beneath my head.  I clutch the fabric and press it to my face.*

                   Oh, God, this is where I should have been all along, all those times I was searching for comfort and fulfillment.  All those times I went out trying to quiet the emptiness in the wrong arms, in the places the world said fulfillment lays, help me to come back here when the past rises and the vulnerability comes.  The times I feel empty help me to remember this moment, this holding.  Help me to know that Your lap is always waiting.

*My bitter tears of the pasts hurts and harms empty out and soak into His garments and there bitterness turns to sweet.  Emptiness and vulnerability exchanged with fullness and safety.  I am known and I am loved. He kisses my head as I get up to face the rest of the day.  He is more than enough to fill.*

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, 

that we should be called children of God! 

And that is what we are! 

1 John 3:1 NIV

My secret place

I don't remember having a secret place as a child.  I had an active imagination.  I could create stories in my mind for hours.  Sometimes they would get written out, but mostly they stayed in my head.

I would often retreat into my head and my stories throughout my life.  Most of the time the stories would revolve around a hero of some type.

When I went through my emotional hell in 2010 the only place I wanted to be was in white nothingness.

I would close my eyes and imagine a world of white light.  There would be nothing there, just me lying on a floor of white surrounded by white, maybe covered by a blanket of white and I could disappear into the whiteness.  The silent white nothingness would swallow me up in it and I was safe.  It was quiet, gloriously quiet, and empty.

This last weekend opened up the wounds deep, digging into long covered infections unknown.

Once again I find myself wanting the white, the nothingness, the escape where I can fade into it. The white light where nothing can hide, but I can no longer be seen.  A place where silence reigns and my mind quiets.

My secret place, my escape is nothingness.  I wonder what that means.  A girl who wants to find home so badly, but the go to place she has created in her mind is invisibility, a non-existence.

Linking up with Faith Jam today.

The waiting is hard....

I feel like I am trying to catch the wind. I can feel this, whatever it is, beating against me from  every direction.  I can hear it whistling through this body of mine, blowing things asunder wherever it goes. I want to catch hold of it, see it, study it's every angle and feel the weight of it in my hands. But my hands are empty.