A Better Version Of Me
I believe in the small talk, in 2nd, 3rd and 4th chances, forgiving those in my past and missing the cracks in the pavement (or “you break your mother’s back,” I sang as a kid). I strive for obedience when it does not make sense — denoting a sense of submission.
And when the world of good and evil collide, I might smile that crooked smile revealing my fragile life. I realize how easily my broken and shattered place of being has come to. I sense the vulnerably delicate existence of my heart.
I daydream of a better time, where my soul whispers truth and dedication of Someone’s love. Be still my beating heart and listen. (Psalm 46:10) Once again, conformity and submission take their place in my life calling out my name. I hear her. But I don’t always answer. Shame. Guilt. Even so, my mind takes a stand. But God…you gave me this desire, did you not? And the raging internal war goes on. Why can’t I be more like Jesus? Why can’t I overcome each time? Satan makes out a new buffet of sin every day.
I can choose to order off the menu or the buffet. Some days the buffet looks inviting. Satan is smart and cunning. He is powerful. (Sounds like the disease of addiction)
I bite.
Then there is the long conviction of worthlessness that builds her walls around my heart. The very thing I desire, I fight back against. Does my world of panic-stricken emotions and uncertainty mask this lonely spirit? Or tear down the very walls built to coddle my wounds.
Easy to forgive others. Not so easy to forgive myself.
But…
“For God went right for the jugular when He sent His own Son.” (Romans 8:3, the message) so the least I can do is work on the whole forgiveness thing…
And I pray for a better version of me.
Love,
Connie
Her Broken wing 
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