we are the same, you and me.
you long for the skin-scratching momma of yours to be free from dying the slow and painful death she is inflicting on herself.
i long for the medal-collecting daddy of mine to be free from living the slow and painful life he is inflicting on himself.
they are both addicts-just addicted to different things.
and we are daughters, you and me. who just wanted our parents to parent us. we have holes and they have holes and we’re all just broken.
but then i ponder about what is different. and i feel like a great big fool for even thinking i am the same. i the one who complains about washing peed-in sheets for the umpteenth time and 2 days without a toilet. You just long for a home to wash sheets in….and then when it comes, just something to sit on-any random apparatus will do– and i think–how offensive for me to even think we are the same-i have so so much more. and i accept the challenge “to stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand in judgment at how they carry it.”
but the hole is the same, and the sin struggle is the same, and the brokenness is the same.
the need for Jesus is the same.
i am just a fool. and i have no clue how to love well.
it all gets tangled up and complicated spinning a web inside my head.
and if i sit in the web long enough-i make vows to myself not to come your way again, just to stay away because i’m just making it all worse. we are so different after all.
then my real Father comes to me. and He whispers; “it never was about you loving well, relating well.
duh. (yes, i do think He says ‘duh’ to me)
this friend I’ve given you.
because I love you the same.”