Saturday. May 19, 2007

Dearest God,

Life is a circle of adventures, misfires, unfamiliar places. We take ourselves to sites unknown. Life circumstances challenge us with the refining fire of your love. The process of spiritual purification is a difficult one, yet a labor of divine friendship.

I have trusted you. I have fallen back, stepped ahead. I have circled round and round and round. I have known this rut in the road because this road is well traveled. And I can tell you I don't like it. I want to fill this rut, making it a rut no longer. I want to pave this road, making a new path for traveling. I want to move beyond this particular rut forever. It may a rut long to be remembered as a period of growth, but just a memory. I'm not there yet, but I am working on it.

I keep myself in the center of the Songs for the Inner Child. I have long said that mystery is contained in this album. I can't explain it, but when I talked with a close person the other day, she agreed. She has met God through the music as well. And the child within has a chance to rise up and face her fears. Fears and God, God and fears, these two are linked, so you tell me.

I am laboring to be sure. New birth surely wants to come forth. I feel the pains of labor, my whole body working, at times writhing. Do I want this "child" to be born? If so, the rut will disappear, never altogether, but gone nonetheless. A memory.

I know the message in this endeavor. Trust and faith, in you and myself. Sometimes I feel very strong, at others times weak. I am surely in a time of spring, renewal of body, mind and spirit. I know your desire. I know it so well. On one hand I do not want to pass this way again but until I am able to move forward I'm willing to continue circling until I grow past it.

My life
is in your hands.
You have entrusted it
to me,
but I know
the truth
that sets people free.
I am in your hands
even when I remove myself
from them.
I can't get away
from you.
Neither do I want to.
Help me,
dear God,
to break
the crazy cycle.
I am who I am,
a creation
of your own making.
Make out of me
what you will.
This is my earnest prayer.

Love always, Andrea