Beautiful

Why don't we focus on the light, instead of the scratches on our windshields? I have always been a questioner, and very likely to be skeptical of anything I can't poke at and take apart. I have always wanted to know how something works, and what will happen if it doesn't work. Most of all, I want to know why, and by continuing to question things that simply require faith, I hold myself back from trust and an abundant life. When I am at peace with God and myself, I tend to assume the most positive answers to my questions. When I am not at peace, I assume the worst. I work myself into a train of thought that constantly asks, "What if?" "What if everything I thought I knew was wrong?" "What if the worst thing happens?" "What if -?" And it drives me crazy, the constant doubting. I want to believe abstract truth, but I wait for the physical proof. However, just like the disciple Thomas, I probably wouldn't even believe ...

    "God? Are you there? Why aren't You answering my prayer?" Silence. Why doesn't God answer? Why doesn't He do what He says He will do? Am I so different, so alienated from the rest of humanity that He cannot hear me? Cannot help me? Hagar was mistreated and forced from her home. God found her and saved her. She called Him "the God who sees me". What about me? Does God see me? Or am I not Egyptian enough? The children of Israel are in Egypt, groaning because of their oppression. They cry out to God and he hears them, and He knows what they are going through. He sends them a deliverer. Maybe I'm not slaving away enough? Maybe my circumstances aren't bad enough? Maybe I'm making everything up in my head. David watered his couch with his tears. On the other hand, I have a hard time letting the tears come. Maybe that's why God doesn't help me like He helped David? I know this doesn't really make sense to most ...

I have been at a loss of what to write about, so I've been trying to fill in the space with pictures of the adventurous life I'm living. The truth is, I have a lot to say, but I'm too scared to say it. I'm startled to hear people say they read my blog, and I wonder why on earth I started one in the first place. Of course people read my blog; isn't that why I post on it? Well, yes, but... I started a blog because I felt like it would help me gain the connectivity with people that I wasn't getting in face to face interactions. I come across as an out-going person who has more connections than an airport, but the truth is that I constantly feel as if I'm in a glass box, wistfully looking out at a world I cannot seem to enter. I have lots of friends and a gift for intuitively understanding almost anyone I come across within a few minutes of observation. I can communicate with skill and can basically engage any audience I want. People admire my confidence....