You don’t make sense to me.
You say all the right things when they are easy to say,
and lose it when it really counts.
You can go and go and go, never missing a beat
and then suddenly explode.
I never see it coming.
You don’t make sense to me.
In the moment you can’t stop yourself.
When you speak in love one moment,
you touch in anger the next.
You are a total contradiction, and I can’t grasp your intentions.
You want to love, and you do.
You don’t want to hate, but you do.
And your hands wring with anger, and your jaw clenches with rage.
And everything you read leaves your mind when you need it most.
And you pray. And you pray. And you pray.
But you still are who you are.
Angry.
Me, you don’t make sense to me.
God will see you through, dear. Even when you screw up, he loves you more than you hate yourself and anyone else.
“You are a total contradiction.”
Aren’t we all? What I want, I don’t do; and what I don’t want, I do. AGH! Paul understood. And me, too.
Love you, girl!
Fortunately, making sense to ourselves is NOT one of the requirements to be a recipient of God’s bountiful grace. Whatever happened, you are still my much-loved daughter, an awesome wife, and a good mommy. Now, go forgive yourself!
I just found your blog today and read it end to end. It made me smile, it moved me very much and I don’t know how to describe the love your posts radiate for your family without sounding very tacky. I sincerely admire your faith and your willingness to look for greater resilience and patience in loving, it’s very inspiring. God bless you {}