I've decided to try out the blog. Somehow I find it easier to write in this type of format than with a pad and pencil and I've needed to get a few things down where I can see them, and look back on moments of clarity and enlightenment to see if that's really what they are. Nothing is sacred here, and yet it all is sacred to some degree- All I really know is that it's all covered by grace.
It's been a hellish year. My Da died as close to in my arms as I could have. No one really knew the joy that I felt for him, nor the utter weakness that I experienced in the aftermath of that period of ministry. I so wanted to go to a church where I knew that I could fall into the arms of a God who would use the arms of those who are His to comfort me. They say that there is no rest for the wicked, well if that's the case then the servant of the people of God must be wicked, for I am kept at arms length even yet. I think that if I ever got there, it would be hours before the snot would cease to run. I hear the promises, but I can't quite reach the prize. Even when the ring is within my grasp, my finger is within the loop, something makes it a spectre and it slips away, and again I have but a promise. How do you walk through the veil- I must walk through the veil. And I can no longer fear making a mistake.