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Thanks for visiting my diary. I've been journaling since 1984 and have chosen to share some of my entries online. They are not all positive thoughts, but I hope that reading them might be a blessing to someone who needs encouragement.
If you are just coming to my diary for the first time, please read my introductory entry, where I share some background that is important if you plan to follow this diary regularly.
Please also visit my music page, where you can hear samples from my debut CD, I Believe, which features songs written based on experiences shared in this journal.
After I wrote that last sentence I went in my room and had a cry session. I wish I had just one of my friends around here somewhere. I'm sure they're thinking about us and praying for us, but it would be so nice to be able to cry on their shoulder.
I had forgotten who I was listening to. Let me tell you, I know I'm breaking down when I find myself in bed crying and praying with the covers over my head and my sister's friend asking if I'm okay! Mom said I made her feel guilty for not being around.
"Would you rather me tell you or not tell you and blow up at you later?" I asked.
"I don't know what I want," she said.
On we go for about 30 minutes. She's right. It is a vicious cycle. Who's going to break it? I don't want to see another counselor. She says I have to try SOMETHING. (Why are we talking about my life now? I was upset about other things, specifically trying to communicate that I was frustrated about not being able to communicate with Granny. Mom said, "Maybe you need to go back and concentrate on your work." I could have asked why my work is so much more important than hers, but I thought better.
That IS my business, and finally she said that. I know I have to do what I know is the best thing, even if my parents disagree. Even if I lose my scholarship--which I won't. And if I did, I'd just have to crawl out like I'm doing anyway.)
It finally left me very angry with God! "What did You bring me here for?" I thought. "Now I'm in a whole and can't get out. Now I don't even have my family. They're either not around, or they try to straighten my thinking out--yep, even my little sister. It's the same old thing. Everyone's guilty of the thing they accuse everyone else of. But it's okay because it's me and not them.
"You haven't said go back. I think You are clearer than what I'm hearing. You've got to tell me SOMETHING! I can't live with this."
So I went to the famous prayer closet. "Lord, I really need some peace."
So ended the round of kick-and-scream.
"I gave you this week. You started a writing project. You have some time at the hospital. You saw something beautiful last night. You were considerably happy. I want you to be even closer to me. That's what I want this week for. I want this week for Me. You heard right that it wasn't for you. It's for Me. Sure, Becky's upset about you missing class. But you can get your work done, and I don't need you to make perfect grades. I want you to do your best, but I did call you here this week, and I know what I am doing."
I feel like David writing his Psalms. I wonder if he was thinking of someone or writing to someone. I wonder if he was dying to share what he was learning in his struggles.
And I know why God gave me Casey: to sleep in my bed and purr and swish her tail and tolerate Elli.
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