One blade of grass...

My Soul weeps and I lack the odacity to seek out a living God.

I've set up and knocked down my own pins.

The God of love is the God of pain and the judger of my sins.



She talks to those that she wants to when Her whim or will calls.

He takes Kings and makes examples of them- so say the stories of men.

He hardens hearts and sets up circumstances to punish

-and to bless...



Does the God of wrath, the God of love, the God of pain, the Creator of good and evil even notice me? Did She see my tears? Did she heed my cries? Did He let me suffer? Did She create the evil done to me and give my abusers the ability to hurt me as much as my ability to cry out in futility? Yeah.



As well as the strength to allow me to get out of a bad situation and right into the next. Yeah.



Does the God of all care to know me, despite years of faithful song and worship and study and diligence and long-suffering to the literal meaning of the word??? Yeah- or some would say.



I don't have the odacity to seek out this God, the Creator of all any longer; nor do I to shake my fist at the sky...

The Maker of Hell is also the maker of the children I serve, the sunset I observe in joy, and the sweet thing in life as well.



I am but a weed in miles and miles of field. One blade of grass.



All I can do is live life the best way I can, with as few regrets as possible and hope it's good enough- despite what my former brothers and sisters in the bible-thumping club would tell me.