Agnes

July 2, 2017. 7:30 am -  my first day. Agnes by Glass Animals comes over the radio. 

I've never heard this song. Turn it up. The instrumentation builds. It haunts; enchants. I can never hear lyrics; the crescendo is epic. Something new here.  Stop numbing; the next step will be my legend.

Cunning, baffling, powerful. Without help, it was too much. 

Reaching for the glass was the answer that allowed the days to come and go, to keep me on track with this direction I was certain God called me to: Pastor. 

Agnes. She captivates. I dream, I yearn. God had something in store for me. A five-year prequel to the half step before the first step:                         This shit has to end.

Wanting to lose weight. 

Wanting to run again. Wanting the perfect body. Wanting the perfect relationship. 

Wanting to love my daughter more. 

Wanting to be the best at my job. 

Wanting my parents to be proud.

A 12-step program was going to get me there. I want this. It must.

It delivered; and more: 

Crushing depression.            Sabbatical seeking communion with God.        Repressed emotions boil over: 34 years

Knowing and owing my part in my resentments suffocates. I'm drowning.

Overwhelmed; craving to be seen by others, to be wanted by others. 

The wake of destruction I've made of relationships comes into view. The damage I cause when people can't make me who I want to be is a barren trail of sorrow. 

It's them; it has to be. They will make me. They will put me on the right path. They will stand in for God. They will restore me to sanity.

Fallible. Disappointing. Just like me. They can't deliver - 

why can't they deliver???  God, hear my prayer!

A gripping vacuum. Floating in space. Emptiness rushes through my body, leaves me hollow, weightless, grasping the air. They fail to deliver.        They can't. They shouldn't. It's impossible.

Only I can do the work. 

Their presence distracts and delays... but really:

They don't see me. They can't see me. They can't make me. They barely see themselves. They are but a mirror of the brokenness; hiding from it in the comfort of others. It cannot sustain. There is pain; it is my pain. There is fear; it is my fear. 

I am broken. I am empty. I am nothing. The bottle calls. I turn from it; God is louder. Enter now into the dark night of the soul... 

into the haunting unknown -

enchanted, tormented, eager, hesitant -  ready to see - - - me: 

the little girl abandoned so long ago. 

Afraid. Alone. She is revulsion. She is shame. 

Yet.         She is loved.       She is love.       Only God can work in her. Only God will make her whole. God will send those meant to walk her home - she will know love - for she is love.

 Turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understand her. 

I surrender all things to her glory and service.

Loss, grief, recovery, joy - struggle to take the next step, to do the next right thing.  It's Agnes. 

She is the epic beginning. She is courage. She is love.

Watch Agnes here. I know the lyrics now; they don't describe my journey entirely.