Part of the Plan

Every once in a while I am proved so wrong... and it's beautiful. My greatest fears of late have not been losing someone, they have been losing faith. For a brief moment, for a held breath in time, I wondered with deep insecurity whether or not there is purpose, meaning, direction to the crazy life we live, the decisions we make. Is there any pattern in the random chaos, or is it just that, random chaos?

I've spent the greater portion of my life walking a very strict line of belief. Dogmatic in the language, varying in the expression, hopeful in the lessons, perfection in hindsight. That may not make sense, but think of it this way, always speaking the belief, sometimes acting on it, but always seeing the conclusion in the rearview mirror. But in the last few months that sort of formulaic way of excuses has failed.

The older I get, the more cost there is to the decisions I make. I realize the endgame is so much more fragile. So when I make a decision, it's fraught with meaning, analyzation and slight paranoia. The OCD of thought, I would probably make a great chess player if I knew the game, and had a higher IQ.... I guess that means I would actually suck at it, but whatev. Point is, when I make my decisions now, I don't have the carefree easy justifications of time, ignorance and bliss I used it. Now, it means something.

So when I took a leap and came home, leaving behind one dream for another, and then both died, a piece of me died with it. The ignorance and bliss piece, I guess. Catapulted into circumstances that made me question the very way I see the world, my roots where shaken, my heart rendered. After everything I had been through, did I have the faith to hold on another day? No, I didn't. There seemed to be no purpose anymore, no justification for the loss, no real reason for my faith not proving itself through redemption. I had nothing to hold onto besides an over analytical mind looking for proof of life, while there was no pulse. In a world that has been infiltrated and subjected to death, it's hard to hope for life.

But tonight I was proved wrong. I spent hours praying today. Well, I guess that's everyday, but today was different. I had been struck by a terrible migraine which I get under bouts of intense stress, intense weather change, or female issues. Since the weather has now dipped to record lows from record highs and my stress level has been through the roof, two out of three was enough to send me into the blinding overdrive of neurons gone haywire. After a few specialized pills and some serious sleeping, I recovered enough to feel the gnawing pain of deep metaphysical questions... also known as doubts. Coming back to reality can sometimes feel like waking up into a bad dream. My everything is topsy turvy. That tends to rock a world.

So as I sat in worship tonight, I realized certain questions had been answered, even if they weren't. I could handle the idea that I may never know the why. I could handle the notion that it may never make sense, that I may never know for sure who's voice I heard when I decided to move home. I could even stop blaming my ex, myself and God for the end of every dream I had. What I couldn't let go of was the deep fear that it was all for nothing.

When my ex walked away, it was so easy for him. For me, it was earth-shattering. It had been worth everything for me, not just because I loved him, but because my faith had deepened that love. Time and time again, the wisdom from heaven, my trust in God, my love of Him and honesty with Him had led me back to my ex. My relationship with God seemed to deepen through my relationship with my ex. It was so symmetrical and beautiful, that's part of the shock of it ending. What seemed to make so much sense to me, wasn't enough for someone else, and on top of that, God was letting die as well.

I had given every bit of love I had, and more it felt, and sacrificed it all. For what? For only a few short weeks later to have it all end? The reality, in my realm that is, looks empty, vain, heartless and callous. My heart had been pure, even if the expression of my love was flawed and human at times. Where was my justice? You can't make someone love you, but this was more than just that, now it was an issue between the Lord and I. Where was He? Where is He? Was it all random, once again? Was it just a clash of a woman in love and a man afraid to commit? Could my heart and sacrifice be simplified down so much?

When something good dies, there is a need for it to be justified. There is a deep need for it to mean something, to not die in vain. A soldier on the battlefield, a child with a disease, it needs to have meaning, to be something more than senseless. I needed that here. All I had wanted to do was love someone, to love the Lord, to live that life, to fight that good fight. It wasn't enough to rage against the fear, the resentment, the hurt of another, and to me, that was the worst sort of loss; one that in the end meant nothing. And He wasn't there to help me fight it. Instead, He felt distant, quiet, unconcerned with my pangs and the doubts that were swirling, threatening to pull me under. Where was the goodness I had banked on?

As I sat in worship tonight though, something great happened. I worshipped again, squaring away all of my fears, expressing them out, then asking for a faith to sustain. I sat down, questioning my decisions, my frustrations, my loss of dreams and realized, maybe that was part of the point. If there was a purpose at all, maybe part of it was to destroy my dreams... and maybe, just maybe He would replace them with His. Maybe He would take my life and what I thought was the epitome of great and destroy it, to return something even better. But that hinged on whether or not any, if not all of it, was purposed. If He really did mean to take my life and completely shatter it. Ironically enough, I would prefer that to random accident.

I sat down, and the next thing I knew a friend sat down next to me and started praying. He prayed that I would know God had a path, that as I cried, the Lord heard me, when I asked where He was, He was saying close by, that I would see the path however narrow, that I would know I was worth it. He prayed God would show me His will and the doubts would be erased. He prayed that Jesus wouldn't just show up in some sort of emotional way, but in a real and meaningful way. He said he knew God wasn't going to leave me in the shadow of death. He said the Lord was going to show me a plan, a path, He was going to work this out in a way I could see, but would be continually surprised but, that was out of my imagination. He would do it better than I imagined. I kid you not.

If I hadn't written most of what he prayed for in my journal ten minutes before, if I hadn't blogged it all two hours before, if I hadn't been praying it ten seconds before, it wouldn't have meant as much. I asked my friend later if he had read my blog, he said he didn't even know I had one. I wasn't even offended. It was the answer I had hoped for.

I don't hold much stock in prayer for miracles, not because I don't believe in them, but because I believe we may not even need to pray for them. God is capable of above and beyond and when He wants to show up He will. Peter never prayed before he told the cripple to get up, he just told him to. I hadn't been asking for a miracle, I had been asking for faith. Receiving either, is a miracle, but then again, so is showing up and hoping when everything tells you not to.

My head told me everything would fail with my ex. I followed my faith and my hope and tried anyways... and it failed. My head told me God wouldn't show up, but I followed my faith and my hope, and He did. It's not the word for word of a prayer that seemed to have read my journal, it's that my faith, my heart, my wounds, they are important to Him. He is with me, even when I don't think He is. He's standing right next to me, and my faith is more important to Him, than it is to me. My heart, what it can give, how much it can love, how much it wants to have faith, believe and press on, it means more to Him than it does me. I'm less surprised by His miracles and more and more surprised by His desire to strengthen me. His heart is for me, is for the relationship. I wish with more than anything that I had the same strength He did, but then again, part of me falls back realizing it doesn't matter anyways. When I reached the end of my rope, He starts a new one. For a moment, I gave up on faith, but He never gave up on me.

It's not a relationship with faith I have, it's a relationship with a God. It's not a belief in fate, but a love for One that exists, that is true, that is good. It's not random acts that I believe in, but a being that lives above time. I forget that at times. I'm glad He doesn't though. See, He is greater than my unbelief, just as the walls I see are nothing more than sheet rock between myself and the outside world. Sometimes I forget they are just thin veils blocking the view. When Someone walks through them, they become moot point. It's just like God, a small miracle that sets my tilt-a-whirl spinning again. Long live a dedication in knowledge that everything is ordained and nothing, nothing is ever not part of the plan. Amen.

In Vain

I'll never regret making the decisions I have. As hard as it has been, I made them, they were mine and I own them. Still though, when you take a risk, jump off a cliff and reality slams into you like unforgiving cement, the realization the parachute didn't open hurts. So does the landscape from a much lower elevation.

I have no one to blame, but still the desire to blame is so pungent. I took a major gamble... and I lost; everything. That sinks in deeper everyday. I remember when I was deciding to come back or not, I was talking with a friend and they said, "Your career is always out there, but the person you love, that may not always be there." And they were right, but it never dawned on me that I would lose both.

I've been doing everything I can to get back at least a portion of what I lost. There is no part of me that wants to admit defeat in every aspect. Somehow it can't be true that everything went up in a puff of smoke. All the potential in the world, but no follow through, in everything. It all fit together so well, love, career, hopes, dreams, redemption. It was exactly what every person dreams of and more. It was too good to be true, and somehow, deep down inside, I knew it. I shouldn't be so surprised, but still, I am.

I keep emailing friend back in DC. I want to go back so badly. I don't want to admit when I moved home for love, it could really mean the end of not only the love, but the career in the field I loved. I never thought that was such an option, then again, when I came home, I never really thought the love I had would end so easily. It seems Murhpy's law has struck again. Nothing is panning out, and I know if I want to go back I'm going to have to take a similar risk. I'm going to have to go back without any guarantees. It seems most of what I am doing in life is taking risks with not only no guarantees, but nothing but storm clouds ahead. When did life get this dark and gloomy? I used to be so hopeful, but then again, that hope is what seems to have led me down a romantically disillusioned path.

Part of me feels so foolish, the other begging the heavens that it all has a meaning greater than just stupid mistakes. I plead with the pages of my Bible that watching everything circle drain has more meaning that accidents, bad decisions and coincidental meetings at bars. I know so much of the ending of the relationship was timing. I was ready, he wasn't. I wanted to grow up, he didn't. He loved his life of sports, boys and non-responsibility more than he loved me, and though it hurts, I know I can't take it as personally as I was. The only thing that gets to me, how meaningless is that? How empty can it be? I made life altering decisions, it meant everything to me, and somehow it was just a misfire of timing?

The faith in me begs that to be untrue. The hope I have known forever pleads that it wasn't as simply worthless as that. This God I have served my whole life, He can't be so impotent as to let the chaos of timing reign. Right? I believed I was following His voice coming home, whether or not I was right, whether or not I heard Him correctly, it can't be as simple as bad timing. Right?

They say depression is part of the grieving process. Not only am I grieving the loss of a love, but of a career, of dreams, of a future, of what I thought was real. As I am grieving all of it, I have to believe it's all more purposed than it feels right now. My recovery of hope and faith hinges on my ability to not feel as though I was just a fool on a fools errand of foolishly deceived love. Was it justified? Was the decision to leave what was sure for what was unsure as stupid as it appears right now?

I know Scripture says there is a purpose for our lives, for the moves we make. Part of me needs to know, I need to feel as though the love I gave him, the risks I took, the hope I had, the faith in greatness, in redemption, in miracles wasn't misguided and vain as it feels. My world stopped spinning as his continued with ease and simplicity, and my heart, it pleads with my Creator for some sort of comfort in the loss. Please, don't let this have been a sacrifice for nothing.

Does He see? Is He as cold as the lover I left? Does He take no concern over the sacrifices I made? And will I pay for them forever? No one owes me anything. They were my decisions, but still, my heart cries for meaning in them. Will the pieces of myself I lost, will the dreams I gave up, will the love I had, will they always feel like a cross to bear? Or will they bear some sort of fruit in the future that means more than loss?

There is no great rescue that can make everything better right now. No one thing that can erase everything that has happened, but I wonder, will the future bring something worth the risk and loss?

My heart is healing, everyday, a little more. I can see someday I will love again, probably sooner rather than later. Everyday I miss him less and see the truth more. It sinks in that if someone I loved so much could walk away, it was better that they did. But the knowledge of how much I sacrificed, how much I loved, it haunts me. I need to know it meant more than empty promises and vain attempts to "make it work." I need to know the love I had, gave and moved in was more than just a "stepping stone" to something. I want to know it left a mark, it moved something, that it was recognized, it was worth more than just a few months of empty attempts to justify walking away. In faith a took a leap, and though it didn't work out, I want so badly to know it means more than just a simple "we just weren't meant to be" as someone walks away. It was never so simple for me, and it never will be.

And though I can never, and will never want my ex to justify it, I cry out for God to. I ask, maybe in vain, for more than just the pain of bad timing. When someone sacrifices for something they believe in, it should never be so easily cast aside as a fools errand. And I pray, for the sake of my heart, hope and faith, it won't be that way for me.

Oh God, please, don't let this have meant so little. Father, show me You see. Please, show me You see my heart and the love I had, the decisions I made based on that love and faith. I can't ask for everything over night, but I ask for patience, for healing, for release, for hope in the midst of death. And I ask for a miracle. I ask for the decisions I made not to be in vain, but to be apart of Your grander plan. I ask for the wisdom to see it, for the faith to believe it and for the healing to receive it. I've made bad decisions in the past and watched You redeem them. If that's all he was, a bad decision, Lord, redeem again. And I pray for a love that puts everything I have known to shame. I pray You send me a love that will honor the sort of love I want to give. I pray for someone that sees the value of a woman that will leave everything when it's worth it.

And I pray the decision I made is anything but empty. I've lost everything, my dreams, my hopes, everything I wanted in life. Please, let me know it's not only in Your control, but part of a plan I can't fully see. I ask for purpose. Please Lord, let me see purpose beyond just stepping stones, but something more. And as I'm waiting for the stone to be rolled away, I'm asking for a faith I don't posses to trust You. Show me more of Your heart. I'm sorry for the doubt, I'm sorry for the unfaithfulness, and in it's place, I beg of You to show me more of You. Show me Your version of my life, the past and the present. How do You see it? How do You see what I have been through? Whatever Your perspective, I pray You give me the eyes to see it.

Raising the Dead

When the story ends without a happy ending, there is this empty sort of feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach, refusing to settle comfortably. It's not supposed to be this way, it seems to say.

As I continue to grieve, refusing to leave any rock unturned, any feeling unfelt, any baggage not dealt with, I find myself in the scariest place yet.

When I fell in love, the worst thing that could have happened did. I believed every hope, every dream, every prayer, every wish was coming true. Not at first of course, but through time, through consistency, slowly, I believed it was possible. Happy endings weren't just the thing of fairy-tales, they were possible. Everything I had believed in was true.

Then it died, and to be honest, I fear a piece of me died with it.

It's not just about losing someone I loved. It's about losing everything that went with it. I awakened to so much hope, trust, belief, passion and conviction. My heart began to open and for once, I saw more than death, I saw life. I felt excitement build in me as I began to dream for the first time. I had only known so much pain, heartache, frustration and for once, I could see a horizon. It seemed we had been lead together, kept together and shown a love in human terms that was an expression of a heavenly love. At least that's what I thought. Then I found out it wasn't real.

I don't even miss my ex anymore. I can't. I don't know who he is. But I do miss me. I used to believe in love, in goodness, in hope and trust. And I hate what this has done to me. I hate that now I question everything and everyone, especially myself. I was so convinced he loved me. I was so sure, there was never anything saying any different and I feel so foolish for believing him. I feel so dumb for thinking love could conquer, that if I stayed vulnerable, open and trusting, we would be possible. I feel so naive for having believed he ever loved me enough to work out the hard things, to dream with me, to love me in good and bad. I feel ridiculous for thinking love songs were based on real life, for being stupid enough to think I had that. I hate I wasted a good heart on someone that so callously lied about how much he really loved me. A silly hopeless romantic proved there is no such thing. Stories are for kids, and happy endings are for box office dollars. Beauty fades and rarely does love win.

And I was so sure this was from God. I remember praying for wisdom, praying for confirmation, praying for peace. I remember asking for His will and feeling Him tug me in the direction of forward with my ex. I trusted God as easily as I trusted my ex. There was no reason not to. At the time, I believed in happy endings, I believed in love for a lifetime, in redemption that was bigger than death and hope that wouldn't be deferred forever. Every dream I had, every time I swore I heard God's voice, how could I have? Some people say life isn't black and white, but how is it not? Either there is a meant to be, a path, a will, a life God has, or it's all chaos. I used to believe in hearing from Him, I used to believe that God had a will... now I'm not so sure. It's one thing to feel betrayed by a human, I can't fault someone for not loving me, but I battle feeling just as betrayed by God.

Did I hear wrong? Did He never speak at all? Was it all just a made up delusion? Hear I thought this man loved me, I thought we were so designed by God, so perfect in the imperfection, all the while he was looking for a way out. Did I hear what I wanted to hear based on faulty information? Was it all, as my ex puts it, a fairy-tale that was bound to end? How could I have gone so unhinged for so long?

My faith has taken such a beating. And once again, it's not about my ex. It's about the fact that I believed him, and when there was no purpose to lead me on and lie to me about his feelings, he did. It's about the fact that I trusted and hoped and it ended up that I was trusting and hoping in something that wasn't real. It had never been real and somehow I mistook it for the most real thing I had ever been apart of. The mirage disappeared and I was sucking sand thinking it was water the whole time. I had no idea I was living in a world that was anything besides real.

What else have I hoped in that isn't so true? I'm not going to lie, my faith has taken a beating. If I could be so convinced, if I could convince myself so much that someone loved me, if I could feel so sure about that, so secure, and have it be a lie, have it be not real, what else am I believing that isn't real? I was so sure I had heard God, how can I believe in His voice then? How can I ever know I heard Him, or will hear Him, or do hear Him? How can I know He is as involved in my life as I want Him to be? My head and heart crave reality. They crave what they can trust, what won't turn out to be a mirage.

Did I believe he loved me just because I really wanted to? And what else do I believe just because I really want to, verses what is real and true?

I so easily trusted that things would work out, that God was speaking, active and hearing me. I believed He was working in my life, that everything had a purpose, that redemption was more than just a hope for the other side. When everything I thought was true disappeared, with it went a huge chunk of that easy faith and hope.

Now it hurts. It hurts to believe. It scares me. I don't know what's up, what's down and what's real and what's not. I was so easily fooled once, and to be honest, I don't know at all where God was in it. What did I hear, what didn't I hear? And that doesn't help at all.

After my ex broke up with me the first time, before the second, I had to decide to move home. I prayed about it, and believed it was right to move home and give this a chance. I threw all my eggs in one basket knowing I had to give it everything I had. I had no idea that wasn't what my ex really wanted, but for me, it was a choice to love completely and totally, to risk greatly... to hope. I didn't know where things had gone wrong, what he wanted, what was real and what wasn't, what was right and what wasn't. I didn't know where the miscommunication had happened and I knew I had to work to fight for a love I was so sure was real. It was hard, I was scared out of my mind thinking it was going to end inevitably, but I couldn't just give up. I couldn't succumb to the fear, I had to hope. I had to believe it was possible to see redemption, miracles and love.

I find myself in the same place, but with Someone else. I look around and see only death, I see betrayed trust, pointless love and purposeless loss. I see mortal wounds and aged youth and faith holding on by a very thin string. I don't know what to believe, what is real and what is going to happen. I know in my fear I'm deciding whether or not I will move, but this time it isn't 3,000 miles, it's from one thought to another. The hopeless romantic in me reserved just enough space left in my hard heart to wait. I feel betrayed by both man and God, but there is a tiny portion of me that holds out. Maybe, just maybe there may still be a storybook ending, if not for my and my ex, but for me and my God. If I don't stick around though, I'll never know.

I don't regret moving home. I loved with every piece of me, I gave every shot, held nothing in my back from him. I believed the best about him, us and myself, and I dared to hope and believe in possibilities. I don't regret giving him every last chance to do the same. I'm not mad I gave everything up, I don't resent him, I'm not even angry with myself. In fact, quite the opposite, I'm so happy I did. I have no regrets, no moments I wish I had loved him more, no wondering what would have happened. If there is any moment of solace right now, it's knowing no matter if it was real or not, I acted as though it was, and I allowed myself to risk. I decided to love and I know without a doubt, how much I loved him was a reflection of how much I can love. It may not have been a treasure to him, but it's a treasure to me, knowing I have that ability. It hurts now, oh how it hurts now, to have loved so much when the other was not nearly as invested. I feel such a fool and I may feel stupid for not knowing, for trusting, but I will never feel foolish for loving as much as I did. Never.

And right now, that is the choice I have between myself and God. The hard part is, now I carry the baggage of being so wrong once. I don't know if I can handle being wrong twice. I don't want to lose not only my heart, but my soul. Will He catch me as I jump off the cliff, or is all this the same sort of delusion I fell into with my ex? Is it just the hopeful romantic wanting the story of a loving God to be true, or for once, can love be true? I thought it was a sure bet with my ex and that let me down so much, how can I trust something that takes a faith I can't seem to muster? I'm defeated before I begin, but still, that romance I want more than life, that hope that doesn't seem to die whispers a still small voice, "Wait... just wait. Your story isn't over yet. There still may be more, and if there is any hope, any faith, any trust, any love, it isn't yours to produce and it will rescue. Wait, just hold on a little longer.... maybe He's raising the dead in you. There is no sane reason to believe, to have faith, to hope, but then, that's the point. We don't believe because it's easy, we don't trust because it's simple and we don't hope because we know. Hope is only hope when everything is dead."

I'm not sure what I am waiting for, I'm not sure I know what to look for and I certainly don't know what voices are His, which are mine and which are too many romantic comedies, but I figure, if there was ever a gamble to make, more than on a lover, this supersedes in import. And maybe, just maybe all this death has a purpose, maybe there is still a miracle of life on my horizon.

Oh God, I don't know what to believe. I thought I was so sure about so many things. And even now, I feel so taunted. Signs, miracles, confirmations, hopes, dreams, they all seem to clash and eventually have now lead to so much heartache. Where are You? Who are You? Forgive my doubts, my confusion, but whatever I am, You know I am nothing more than a human. I am limited and those limits seem to break me now. If ever there was a Lazarus moment needed, if ever I needed a tomb rolled away, if ever I needed more than a feeling, it would be now. I don't know what happened, where You were, what's real and what's not, I don't know how to have faith, hope or trust. My broken in more ways than one, but what I have I give You. I give You no less, but more than I gave an earthly love, I give You the benefit of every doubt, I give You the only hope I have left: tomorrow. I ask my questions wanting answers, knowing maybe only time will give them. I don't know if You have a path, if You have a will, if You are more real than a fleeting love I had, I don't know anything... but I do know me. I know I want to love You more than anything. I know I want to know You. I know I want to have faith.

I give the past to You. I don't understand it, and it scares the hell out of me. I look back and can't make any sense of any of it, but it's Yours. I don't ask for a miracle, I ask for peace. I don't ask for hope, I ask for faith. I'm hoping this will turn out to be a better ending than the last relationship. I'm risking my heart again, I'm risking looking a fool again, deluding by wishes and hopes. I need You to be real. I need You to be more real than the wounds of loss. I need You to be real enough to help me with naive trust and blind faith. I don't want a faith that is based on just wanting something to be true, but on knowing it is. Maybe that's the point of faith, but I give You only what I have... the fear, the doubt, the humiliation, the anger, the confusion and... the hope. Maybe this is the crucifixion You talked about, maybe this is the death before life. I guess all I can say is, I hope.

"24 oceans, 24 skies, 24 failures in 24 tries, 24 finds me, in 24th place, with 24 drop outs, at the end of the day. Life is not what I thought it was, 24 hours ago still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You. And I'm not who I thought I was 24 hours ago, still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You.

It's 24 reasons to admit that I'm wrong, with all my excuses, still 24 strong, see I'm not copping out, not copping out, not copping out, when You're raising the dead in me.

I am the second man, I am the second now, I am the second man now, and You're raising the dead these 24 voices, with 24 hearts and all of my symphonies in 24 parts. But I want to be one today, centered and true, I'm singing spirit take me up in arms with You. You're raising the dead in me...

I want to see miracles, to see the world change, wrestled the Angel for more than a name, for more than a feeling, more than a cause. I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You. You're raising the dead in me...."

Request for Miracles

In honor of my continuing efforts to never be anything besides completely and opening honest, on this years valentines day, I have decided to do the one thing no one ever wants to: admit to the worst fears I face. Sounds like a celebration, huh?

Well, as it would seem, time does march on and so does the grieving process. They say that it goes, denial, bargaining/anger, grief, acceptance. I'm not sure how it is all suppose to pan out, but I seem to be somewhere in between grief and more grief.

I hit my wall today. I finally realized, with a sinking, awful feeling, how over it really was. Everything beautiful about the love I had, is gone. Five months after watching him walk away, I have stopped arguing with myself and realized, for whatever reason, good or bad, it's over. There is nothing there. As I realized that, all the terrible questions I never wanted raised suddenly burst onto the surface with frenzied panic, the most hurtful of which ends up being, was it all in vain?

I loved so deeply. Maybe realizing that is part of the process, but it hurts to admit. I loved so deeply. The sort of deep where the other person can do no wrong simply because I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Every part of the way I imagined and couldn't imagine loving someone, I did him. My heart was completely won over and I would have done anything... as it should be. Was it all for nothing? I lost so much of myself when he walked away. Not because I was codependent, desperate and needy, but for different reasons. I didn't lose my self-worth, reason for living or anything drastic like that, but I lost the part of myself I was supposed to lose, the part that loved another. I lost the part that trusted his words, his actions and ultimately, his professed love for me. I lost the childhood dreams of loving easily and being together forever. I lost my innocence of believing that love was enough. I lost an easy faith.

Now maybe all of those things sound foolish and youthful, but to me, they were precious and rare. See, when I fell in love with him, it wasn't just him, it was the knowledge that what we had stumbled onto was rare and special and beautiful and because of that, it was worth risking everything for. In storybooks and movies, that sort of risk usually means great rewards, for me it has meant great loss. He did not see it the same, or couldn't see it the same, or didn't believe the same, and thus, a heart was broken, mine.

What am I left with? Memories I wish I didn't have, hurt I wish I didn't know, and a sense of injustice I can do nothing with. I'm frustrated at nothing, angry at everything and confused over what seems so purposeless and vain. Everyday I pray for a miracle. Not for his return (I don't know if I would ever want him back), but for a miracle of heart. I pray for healing, hope and trust in the unseen mechanisms of a God I can't seem to pinpoint. I ask for my fears to be not proof of the inevitable, but smoke and mirrors. Everything is so chaotic, upside down. What should have been real, isn't and what is real, is so unfortunate. Death seems to reign supreme again, and yet that's not the law I live by, which sparks confusion, fear and anxiety all over.

I never wanted to carry around the memories of having loved someone so deeply and knowing they don't care in return. That to them I am just a memory to put away, a bump in the road, something to have left behind in search of better. It's an awful feeling, watching a love that, albeit flawed, but so pure, being walked away from so easily. I'm sure he would never claim it was easy, but it couldn't be that hard, since it's still happening. When you are truly seized by the power of real deep and abiding love for someone, no matter how hard it gets, it's not something you walk away from. Apparently I was only in that sort of love, but I can't fault him for that. It's just my unfortunate reality. Some questions will never be answered, some reasons never revealed and part of the grief is knowing just that.

Which brings me to my next fear: how will I ever love so deeply again? I know so many say, "You will, don't worry, it just takes time." I even know my ex would say that, although I suspect his reasons for saying it would stem more from guilt rather than real belief. He would hope that for me, not ever really understand the consequences of such statements. He just doesn't want to be responsible... for anything. But I digress. I know it sounds foolish, but I loved without reservation or fear, and now, now I know what the pain is. Now I know what it feels like to lose so tremendously and I wonder, will I be able to risk again? Will I ever not wish it had worked more with him than with another? I need a sort of closure I have yet to see.

I have no choice but to move forward, to hope for hope's sake, to pray the Resurrection of Christ becomes active and miraculous in my heart. I pray one day my heart and mind share a peace with my spirit as I see a stone rolled away. I want a Lazarus moment, when the crowd forgets to breath for a moment, while they wait to see if he really comes forth. I want to be a miracle.

But as I am surrounded by death, watching beauty and love surrender to death and pain, my faith stands shaky to say the least. Can He make a miracle of me? I don't dare hope, but instead, I wait. I hold my breath and see if Lazarus comes forth. If He is a God of justice, every bit of love I gave, I had, every prayer I prayed and every hope I held will not be in vain, but rather an intercession. Accepting the end has meant having to believe He is bigger than this wound. Every theological debate, every concept of Christianity, every hope of salvation comes down to this moment for me, will His death and resurrection bear a witness in my own?

I know I can't expect overnight answers. I can't expect everything to be okay tomorrow, and I do know patience is not my strongest gift, but I also know I am willing and able to submit. If peace that passes understanding is even possible, I know right now is the time I need it most. When the tomb is closed off, when death has been sealed as permanent, I have to sit and wait for the salvation of the Lord.

I don't sit and pine for my ex. I'm moving on, I guess that's why the stages are moving forward. He's part of my past now, and that hurts as well. Even though that's what he chose, somehow, it is no comfort. A wonderful thing died, and I'm not sure why. I'm hoping for a purpose one day, for a better reality, for a miracle. I'm praying the God I serve is big enough to do that. I guess that's part of the request for a miracle.