eyes to see

I said I was done crying about it.   But I lied.  The tears are flowing today and I can't quite sort those these feelings of confusion or inadequacy.

And I can't find a safe place.

Nowhere to go to talk, no listening ear, no comfort.  And the fear and the hurt bounces off the walls, reverberating and returning to my ears, deafening almost.

I know the tears will stop though.  They have to.  And surely this season is almost over.  I feel as though I've lived a lifetime in this storm and I just can't breathe here anymore.

I knew it would come to this.  It had to -- I doubt I could have ever gotten us here on my own.  But, goodness, it hurts.

And I am so confused.

I mean very little to most.  So very little.

There is so much deception I can't wade through it.  What is true, what is manipulation.  The tears fog my vision and I just don't know what else to do but pray for eyes to see.

I want a reset button.  I want to wipe the slate clean.  I want to take it all, sift it out.  See what makes the  cut.  And I want to do it quickly.

I am tired of making excuses for others.  For allowing myself to be hurt, in the name of grace.  For being in a corner all by myself... because it's not like Jesus to defend one another?

No wait.  That doesn't sound right.  But regardless I am fighting this fight alone.  Dodging bullets and punches and reminding myself these people are hurt, they didn't mean it, they have no role models.  Or reminding myself of what I've been so often told...

To choose us would be the hardest decision.  

It really can only get better.  With the war being waged around me, I am afraid to imagine the many more wrong turns it could take.  But I do know space is being cleared and broken places are being strengthened.  I do know that.

But I wish I was protected.

I wish I was comforted.

I wish I was not always required to be the strongest person in the room.

Or that when the tears started like that... well.

It just wasn't supposed to be this way.

I wish the fear and hurt I feel on no one.  The uncertainty is a plague I can't escape.

And it's just all I can think to pray for anymore, that someone else would start making the hard decisions.  Doing the hard things.

These new eyes are adjusting to the light.  It burns, but vision is coming.  It's the pangs of healing that hurt the worst, it seems.  It's the being put back together.