Letting go...

I seem to be addicted to leaving. Not being gone, but the actual act of leaving. There is something about crossing that point of no return that I just love. It's a combination of the wave of sadness that comes with walking away, and that thrill of the unknown that accompanies it. That feeling of not quite knowing whether the ground you're about to step on is solid, and the curiosity that overwhelms me to find out what would happen if it's not.

I love not knowing things, I love faith. I love that the only thing I know for sure is that God will take care of me and that nothing else matters. The idea that no matter what happens to me God is still using and working in me, if He wasn't I would have died by now. However, even as a side note of that death is beautiful in that it will mean that God has finished the work that He created me for and it's time to come home.

I've begged God to let me come home before. I pleaded with Him and did my best to convince Him that I had seen enough and I just wanted to be with Him and His Son. He laughed at me with that loving, understanding tenderness that makes up so much of His being. It was that kind of soft, sad laugh that said "my daughter you know nothing of life, of joy, of pain. I have so much more to show you and to do through you." I cried that I didn't understand this world, it didn't make sense. Innocent people paid for the mistakes of others, children had no childhood, my heroes crashed in front of me and love didn't conquer all. "My angel," He said "of course you don't understand all the things of this world, if you did you would be me. People are only human, they will fail you, and this love of yours that you say doesn't conquer all, is a only human form of my perfect love. Take my hand and walk with me, I will show you a life more amazing in all it's tragedy and splendor than you could ever create for yourself."

All this and I still turn from Him. Insane.