writing to remember
You could shine your face on me and I would be rescued from this degree of pain I can’t escape.
But you don’t.
You show me trees and leaves and shine light through the breeze and make fire in the branches with rays from the expanse of your power.
And I’m tired. But I’ll wait.
How long? How long until you shine your face in full and I don’t have to see you through metaphor?
Hey, I'm Sheila, glad you're here. A little about me: I'm a 40-something woman, wife, mom, RN, soap maker and wannabe suburban homesteader. I think better when I write. I've kept a journal since I was 9 and started blogging over 10 years ago. I'm introverted, but I love people. I'm curious but shy. I'm contemplative and easily distracted. I feel deeply and know numbness. I want to make things right and I'm learning to let go. I wax poetic sometimes and often don't know what to say. It's complicated. It boggles me that I am Christ's and he is mine. I gaze into the heavens and the Heaven-Maker's words, remember the hard things, fight depression, and long for home and King. View all posts by Sheila Dougal
Sheila Dougal