You

I failed to understand the privilege and prosperity I had in you. There were blessings that were available to me (and those like me) and only available from you.

But you see, past memories often overshadow present circumstances. Like a dog that returns to his vomit, a clean pig to her mud, the comfortable, delicious, delightful, warm and fuzzy past often seeks agency to gain entrance to the present and future...over stepping its bounds.

And I open the door to that past by welcoming it into the...now, by stepping outside of your safety and security to walk on the wild side. Your comforter warned me, encouraged me to stay, but did not stop me because you gave ME the choice. Even my body rebelled against my mind: pit in my stomach, heart in my throat. But I packed up my blessings in the knapsack you gave me and walked out...and I didn't look back.

How easily I slipped back into the groove, into the rhythm. All my friends were waiting there, celebrating there, partying there, happy for my triumphant return there. They opened up my knapsack of blessings and helped themselves, bringing new friends that began to love me and adore me and it seemed that I was on top of the world. I celebrated my decision. I know you knew, but I knew better, because nothing felt like thiiiiissssssss.

But after awhile it seemed that my new friends didn't love me at all. Their presence and adoration was directly proportional to the contents of the knapsack and as the supply began to dwindle, they began to dwindle. When the knapsack was empty, so was I. I tried to get the party started but all of them were nowhere to be found. The comfort became asphalt hard, deliciousness soured, delight became sickening, warm and fuzzy became cold and brittle. For the first time ever, I heard the echo of my heartbeat.

It was then that I realized that it was you that knew better. The desolation of humiliation, the utterness of loneliness, the fat swollen tears of fears were my only companions, constant in their vigil, like vultures circling the cruelly sunlit sky waiting for me to die. And die I did, slow death to myself, velvet blackness, not allowing me to see the hand you gave me in front of the face you gave me, so I couldn't see you...save me.

The legs you gave me dropped to the knees in slavery and crawled back to you...waiting you, seeking you, weeping you, realoving you, everlasting you, wonderful, amazing, awesome you, arms outstretched.

And you said not a word,
and suffered none from me.
"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
As you slipped a golden ring on my finger and a robe around my shoulders...

'for this is my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and found.' And they began to be merry. Luke 15:24

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