(Previously written at the Generation Next Retreat - March 20, 2010)
As I sit here on the floor of the chapel, looking around, seeing people release the pain from the wounds that have poisoned their lives, I'm left numb. I know I have wounds, but I can't fully grasp them right now. I can't even begin to count the times I've been shamed, or the times I wish I could just not exist anymore, but the circumstances that led me to those moments of shame are so hard to find tangible.
I wonder a lot if I'm bitter about the life I've been born into. The negativity that permeates from my family, as well as the hopelessness that pours from them. I wonder so many times how I made it past the age of 3.
And why am I put into the situation of physical problems when God "made me so fearfully and wonderfully". Things I will never understand until I'm standing face to face with my Maker.
I have been so unreasonably blessed to be where I am, surrounded by the people I have; but why must I be taken from them so hastily? So many times I find myself unable to wait for the day I'll be with my Heavenly Father, but then see the hearts I'm leaving behind. Someday they will join me, but living without them seems like it would shatter me.
Of all the things I look forward to, why the 3 I can't wait for the most have to be the restrictions, the unlikelies, and the impossibles?
Don't I have the personality to be a nurturing mother? The passion to travel as a missionary? Shouldn't I be able to live beyond 40? It's hard to believe that my quarter-life is over half my life. It's not right to be thinking about these things at 23.