I want you out from under my skin. The truth is this version of you has become a cancer to me. This is not your fault, it is entirely mine. The truth is I’ve allowed your words and my hopes to deliberately blind me to the incongruence of our reality. I’ve allowed it to be ok when you ask for a ‘visit’, but ignore me in daylight hours. I’ve allowed you to tell me the best of me is who I once was. I’ve considered your words and love for the kingdom to be the barometer of who you are to me, and I was wrong.
My GP told me to marry a kind man. I was so taken back by his words. I realized despite the goodness of who you are, and the gold that my King has put in you, I’ve not seen your kindness. Not toward me, others or yourself. He was right, Dr Berry. I need to seek kindness in word and deed, and on those grounds recognise the incongruence for what it is and let you go — my folly.
This next season is a new one. I can feel the God breath and it is up to me whether or not I let it unravel the very fabric I’ve woven so tight, over my ribs and around my heart. The thing about unravelling, is that the residual warmth is a hard thing to relinquish. To stand uncovered and naked, to allow withered skin sunlight is a scary vulnerability for me. It is almost unforgiving.
I think I don’t know kindness. That sounds stupid and melodramatic. I love my father, he is a man who did his best to provide for me the best way he knows how, and as his daughter - I only want to see his strengths. However I’ve come to realise that while I have seen moments of kindness, it is strange and foreign to me. I haven’t valued it for what it is, because I haven’t understood that I am worthy of kindness. Favour is earnt, not a given in my world.
I’m scared.
