Alone

I have allowed myself to become quite angry, at times, over the past two days. The reason?  Not interested in sharing too much about that . . . but I will say that I have known frustration and I was reaquainted yesterday and today with the battle that ensues.  I read a gentleman’s blog today . . . in fact I added him to my blogroll, though I don’t know him personally, something in me was drawn to him . . . his simple but profound insights . . . plainly put for my brain to digest.  Like having a conversation with my grandpa, though I haven’t had a grandpa in my life since I was 15 years old. This is what I would imagine the insights would be like.

Ok, so struggling and stumbling along . . . part of me, the quieter, wiser part of me speaking to me of the high road and leaning into God with the issue . . . allowing my character to be changed . . . instead of worrying and fretting over someone else’s character flaws . . . but my rights and selfish ego were wrapped in what this person had done, etc . . . and it wasn’t the first time it had happened and I still hurt like the first and blah blah blah  . . . but the angry, bitter part of me rages against that quiet voice . . . one that screams about my perceived injustice and makes the petty small things seem like everything at the time . . .

I sat down at the computer, turned my worship cd and stumbled onto Distinct Impressions (the blog) and was immediately sucked in by the simple truths laid out in daily life.  I think I had read 6 or so posts and ran upon this one  http://distinctimpressions.wordpress.com/2008/02/12/type-when-frustrated/

Now, I’m not tech savvy, so you’ll have to copy and paste if you want to read that post.

This stuck out to me;

“But I’m frustrated because the only person I can cause to be different is me. Remember I said that frustration results from the belief that things are unalterable. Maybe that’s not entirely accurate. Maybe frustration arises when the only thing that can change is me — and I don’t want to.”

Ah, it hit home . . . the bullet hit its target.  I felt the hard exterior of my heart crack . . . the hardness caused by bitterness I had seeped all over it, self pity . . . all of it . . . and a glimpse of light slipped in.   How do I become so blind?  This life is not about me and my rights . . . my relationship with God should mean more to me than getting my way.  When I put myself in front of my Saviour . . . that speaks differently than I believe . . . I become unsettled.

My frustration is justifiable . . . there I said it.  But my residing in self-pity, anger, bitterness and judgment . . . not justified. Fine, I’ve been wronged, it hurts . . . I choose, right now, to give it to God and let it go.

Always a work in progress . . . thank you, Jesus, for your unending and faithful grace in my life!