The bigger things I attempt to tackle keep me trying. My best just isn't good enough.
And for a time, I am that tree in the corner, too weary to notice.
I am parched and desperate for water, yet I remain in this dry season, with a brittle heart and withering spirit.
I go through the motions for I don't know what else to do.
I wake up early, read some scripture and voice a prayer. Yet, there is no life in it.
I tend to the children, put on a smile, and attempt a task. Yet, there is no joy in it.
I go to church and I hear the message. Yet, I find no substance in it.
Though I feel justified for it seems God has left me, I know better that He has not.
For I know that even when I don't feel His presence, He is there. And even when I don't understand my circumstances, He is good. Even when leaves are withering and soil is drying up, there is always life rooted in this knowledge, waiting for proper nourishment to sprout new growth.
And so I continue to go through the motions because that is all I can do.
Until little things begin to break me and I find some water for those dry roots. Not just once, for water drains quickly through soil that dry. But one thing after another. Self-pity breaks me. Discouragement breaks me. The lies I have believed break me. Finally I open scripture, to go through the motions one more time, and the words sustain me.
I have finally found that vulnerable place to cry out from - a pliable heart - and in it I am fed. I breathe in fresh life and a renewed spirit.
I can't explain why I was left in the dessert feeling completely parched, where the motions couldn't fill, except for maybe this reason - that I needed to be broken. Broken to see. Broken to feel. Broken to receive.
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