It's me again. I feel like I've run out of words today. Can't really think of what to say. This rainy afternoon only makes me want to nap.
I should start out by thanking You. We should always start with that, but I'm afraid we're not very good at it. Still, I want to thank You, because You've been giving me a lot of peace lately. Telling me things like, "It's going to be okay." I want You to know (even though You already do) that it helps. Sometimes I feel the gentlest weight when You say it, as if You are laying a hand on my head. I hope You are. I imagine it, at least. That helps, too.
I've discovered that the quiet moments aren't so bad. I thought they would be filled with emptiness, but they're all filled up with You. There are still so many distractions, but with the quiet, I often end up talking to You. And on the good days, even listening. It makes me realize You have a plan in all this. It makes me realize I don't have to be afraid.
There is something I'd like to ask, though. Would You to keep Enemy away? I accept many things as if they were a part of me, like loneliness, or depression, or anger. I think to myself this is just the way I am, this is just the way I am feeling today. And so I don't fight it, because how can you fight what you are? But I believe there are demons of loneliness, and depression, and anger, and I believe You gave us the power to send them away, if we'd just wake up and realize that those things that we are feeling are not from You. So I guess I'm not only asking for You to keep the demons away, but also that You would make me aware when they are near, and give me the faith to fight. Because I think sometimes we just endure the bad, when really You called us to fight it.
I guess I was wrong. I hadn't run out of words. But even when I do, that's okay. You don't need words to read our hearts, to hear our spirits. And when we do give You words, You read between them, through them, into them, down deep into the truth of the matter. It makes me glad. These words of mine seem so frail, so insubstantial. They never are enough.