Today. (A sort of semi-journal.)

21/07/2015, 11:02am

Today, I feel overwhelmed.

I feel like a hundred thousand things depend on me.

I feel like I will buckle under the weight of the stuff I've picked up.
I feel like it wasn't this heavy when I picked it up, but it's just multiplying in my arms.

But today, I know the Father.
I know that he is in me and all around me and there's nowhere I can go that's out of his reach.
I know that he loves me to death.
I know that he it utterly capable of doing anything and everything that he wants.
I know that what he wants is always what is good and what is best.
I know that he can do these things without me.

I know that he can do these things with me.
I know that if all I could do for the next six months was lay, curled up in bed, achieving nothing, he would love me just as passionately, be just as proud of me as his kid, as if I'd done a thousand amazing things.
Today, like every other day, I am a fragmented person, shattered into pieces by the fall of man, so what I know and what I feel are not in perfect unison.
I feel much more fearful and confused than I know I need to be.
But I know that I won't always feel like this.
Because I know that the Father loves to help me grow what I feel into the shape of what I know.

Who I know.

21/07/2015, 12:48am

And then I mentioned to a guy I barely know called John that I do poetry, and he asked me with unexpected excitement whether I did written or performance poetry – and when I said performance he stood up and said he'd like us to share some poems with each other! So we went and found a bench and spoke poems to each other for an hour or so, and it was one of the most deeply refreshing things I have ever done. Because he was a great poet, his words were fascinating and strange and felt like the tip of an iceberg of thought and feeling that I had only the tiniest hints about. But more than that, because he was an incredible audience. Here was someone who not only understood with his head, but knew in his heart the reality of what my poems are talking about, and he was laughing and weeping and gritting his teeth with a kind of intense delight that my words, if they were just my words, could never produce. And it made me realise that telling true stories, telling The True Story to people who are willing to hear it, is the most precious imaginable privilege. So today has become a very good day.