{day 22} on monsters in closets

sometimes silence scares me. not in the traditional sense. not in the idea that something with horns and claws will come out and spook me. no, it's the space.

because in the moment between filling your mind with useless information and falling asleep, when the only thing you hear are the footsteps of people living in the apartment above you, there's really nothing you can do to counteract the Voice you hear inside.

i've always carried this inherent fear of what He may ask of me. i always assume it'll be in these moments when He expects me to give something up or do something really difficult. i'm just now beginning to trust His hand.

as if He'd ever ask me to do anything that would hurt me. as if the reasons stacking up against me are any indication of what the One who heals my hurt would consider.

i get scared of pain. i get scared of loss. i get scared of mistakes and confusion and buts and what ifs. 

essentially, i get really, really concerned when i lose control.

funny...the first step in recovery is admitting you are out of control and you cannot do anything about it. it's something i struggle with often, this giving up of control.

because what happens if i do? what happens if i close my eyes and listen for Him to speak? what if i say {and mean!} do what You will?

to be perfectly honest, this is where i'm wrestling with my story right now. in order to fully find my story and in order to effectively share it, i need to sit still long enough to listen.

and this scares the hell out of me. 

there are still moments i feel the need to revisit. there are still questions left unanswered and there are still monsters lurking in my heart's closet.

but i think in order to step forward, in order to learn how to listen well enough where the story He's writing for my future can be heard, i need to sit still and listen to the past. 

i told my sister the other day it feels like i'm walking through the debris of my memory, holding on to His hand. there hasn't been a moment where i fight the urge to run. every time i've shaken awake and moved on - to more writing, to more reading, to more stuff that keeps me busy so i can just forget about whatever i just remembered.

but i'm learning.

i want to listen.i want to sit still long enough to hear the cry of creation and how it echoes our own longing for Home. and then i want to trust that the Storyteller purposes all things for my good and His glory.

even the hidden closests.

Posted on October 21, 2011 and filed under finding{and telling}your story.