Tuesday, February 21

I knew we should have put another computer on that ship

I have been completely exhausted since we got back form Safa. I barely slept the week we were at the base in Arvada. I have been running myself ragged here taking care of my parents. Store runs, doctor's appointment runs, food runs, lottery ticket runs. My mom called me frantic the other day because she wanted a lotto ticket. She whined for me to go get it for her and bring it to the apartment. (Powerball = $350 million!) Thank God neither of them smoke anymore, so I don't have to worry about that. And my dad hasn't had a drink in over three weeks. That's a Tom Perkins record. So, in some ways, things are good.

But they are both suffering. My mom is in constant pain. She fell yesterday, walking through her apartment. Her arms and legs have gone caput. She can't open a cottage cheese container. I have to do it for her. I make dinner, do laundry and run to the bank. I keep reminding God that I can't save the world. But he keeps me going. He keeps me here, facing the truth. Truth: my parents' health is quickly failing, and they are going through so much that sometimes I am overwhelmed. There is nothing I can do about it. Not a thing. I can pray, which will bring some results. But I cannot heal them or magically make it all better. And I want to.

I am facing so much adjustment right now that I can't even focus. I am so freaking tired all of the time. I had to resign myself the other day to not go wishing for DTS back, but to accept the fact that it is over. I may never talk to some of those people again. Harsh reality: I can't stay in contact with 22 people on top of all the other people I am already trying to stay in contact with in my life. I have friends in half of this country and now half of the world. The world is so small to me now. So little.

I hate having to be shown this big fat plate of options for my life, and just get a grip on the fact that there really is a big world out there that is really small that needs me to tell it about Jesus. As quickly as that realization came, it has to be put on hold to figure out what to do about my parents. Where will I live if I move here for a few months to help them out? I can't stay with Gina & Ryan for that whole time. Gina's getting ready to have a baby here soon. Again, God is having me put my dreams on hold while my nineteen year old friends do all the amazing things for him. I just don't understand.

I was really having a hard time today with being so out of sync with the way things were just a week ago. I love YWAM. I loved being in Denver. I feel sad now, and I've been battling condemnation a lot lately. I've been having dreams that I turn back to means of escape to ease the pain I am feeling. I had a dream the other night that I had sex with some guy I met around my parents' apartment complex. I've not met any guys around there; stupid satan. I wake up, every morning, and I feel guilty for having had those dreams. I feel guilty for being able to get out and around like I can when my parents are trapped in their own personal hell so to speak. My mom hasn't been able to leave the house since last Friday. I keep having to pray into that guilt and tell God about it so it doesn't steal my peace. Or my joy.

I was in the shower this afternoon, and I just started singing to the Lord.

Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary
Pure and holy, tried and true
With thanksgiving, I'll be a living
Sanctuary for you

...and I lost it. I broke down. I slid down the wall and crouched in the back of the tub. Sobbing. Weeping. Helpless. With soap in my eyes and hot water streaming down my legs. I got out, wrapped myself in a towel and sat down on the edge of the tub. Crying. And then the peace came. Slowly at first, but then something reminded me of the power of my God. He gave me my daily dose of hope. And I needed it so desperately.

I need Jesus so desperately.

Please don't leave me, Lord. Not now. Please stay close. Are you close? I need you now. Hold me. I want to smell your hair and feel your breath on my neck. Hold me tightly and tell me that everything is going to be okay. Let me cry on your shoulder and get your robe wet with tears. Be here with me. Cry with me. Share my pain. I cannot bear it alone. Inside it hurts and I need release. I will not turn back to my old ways of release. I release my pain to you. You won't leave me, Lord. Especially not now.

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