friday (and sometimes saturday) nights
Friday nights i come to the altar. i come to myself. i come to my reality. i hold my choices, my goodness and my badness. i don’t (at least sometimes) hide.
i try to find space for me to be OK with me. for God to be OK with me. as my honesty takes me places that are hard to accept. as my choices take me to realities that are more beautiful and painful than i could ever imagine.
i remember the week. the conversations that take my breath away. that i didn’t even know were possible. and my heart hurts.
wishing i could have been more this week. loved more. listened more. repaired more. there could have been more generosity.
but my tears tell me that there was love. there was genuineness.
even if it was wrong. it was me.
more me.