Please, please fill the other half of this cup.

Take one:
I'm feeling a bit uprooted.
Cut.

Take Two:
This is the type of blog post which could begin with a warning, like in Lemony Snicket's A series of unfortunate events:

      "If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book. In this book, not    only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle. This is because not very many happy things happened in the lives of the three Baudelaire youngsters. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire were intelligent children, and they were charming, and resourceful, and had pleasant facial features, but they were extremely unlucky, and most everything that happened to them was rife with misfortune, misery, and despair. I'm sorry to tell you this, but that is how the story goes."

Cut.

Take Three:
My fingers are kind of typing with their eyes closed.  I don't know what is going to pour out of them.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe something significantly darker than need come.  My heart's a little on the dramatic side right now.
Cut.

Take Four:
Take five deep breaths Jennifer.  And look at the purple sky outside, and hear the piano playing, and feel   God's arms around you. And cling, cling, cling to Him.

When I was in Montreal the other day, Carla suggested that we should try jumping off of this wall on Mount Royal.  I was lowering myself down it when the rock I had my foot on fell out, and I slipped.  I was surprised that my fingers caught me, and I dangled from the ledge, fingers slipping, until my foot found a stronghold, and I tightened my grip.  I didn't fall.

I think I've spent the last month building a rock wall inside.  Carefully piling happy moments and slathering smiles and cementing in this sense of false strength.  The rocks I place inside can't hold me up. They pretty successfully held me in though.  Take that loneliness! On Guard self-consciousness! Fie, all you little pieces of heart that aren't sticking together like they should be
Maybe I should have more thoroughly consulted a better strategist.  It appears that trapping everything in walls which are apparently too strong for me to break down was not exactly the best idea.  There is a small hole in the wall, kind of like that bared window in the stone walls of that turret of the highest tower.  Some princesses may let down their hair, or sing lovely songs to birds, or sleep in the sunlight that streams through.  But some princesses may just get frustrated, or realize the hopelessness and and helplessness of their situations.  Sure, there's a window.  And sometimes the room is warmed by the sun. And sometimes refreshed by the breeze.  But she's in a tower, and there's some sort of spell on her, and some kind of nasty dragon awaiting anyone who may come to rescue her, and she's at the complete disposal of whatever bold knight should happen to come her way, hopefully with a strong sword and a keen mind, and a pure heart.

How do these knights and princess and warriors know about these princesses anyway?

Through the bit of my wall that's crumbling,  enough emotion is seeping out that my defenses are failing, and at some point I'm going to burst. Enough light is coming in that I know something is wrong, but no amount of screams or sighs or tears or stories or talks or sleeps or icecream or whatever else is doing anything about it.  And the things that are inside the walls are bouncing around and driving me crazy.  Actually.  Crazy.

Outrageous ideas pop into my head: Jennifer, just go out and get really really drunk.  Stop worrying about good or right choices.  Just go.
Don't worry - I'm here enough to know that is not a solution, and that it isn't going to help.

But why couldn't God have told me things? And why do I have to care so much? And why can't I just get up, and walk out the door and get on with my life? And why can't I see the light? I KNOW it is there somewhere...but I go to pray and sometimes I feel so connected to God, and then it just drains away.

I think I'm scared of attachment, and dependence, and of not knowing .
And so I open the bible, and suddenly I actually can't read.  Words don't make it into my head, or my eyes can't see words on the page.  But I can read useless facts on the internet, and signs, and newspapers, and facebook updates.

And so I go to sing and I hate my voice.  I try to play guitar and I mute the strings.

Cut.

Take.
Take a look.
Take a walk.
Take a breath.
Take down the walls, God.  I can't do it on my own.  I dont know if I even really want to do it.  I know that you are there, and I know you've surrounded me with abundant blessing.  And I really, really want to dwell in you.  And I really, really need your joy to flow through me.  I know that you have an incredible plan.  I know that you are shaping me, changing me, growing me - and loving me through it all.

I don't want to see this cup half empty.  But right now, even half empty is optimistic.  I'm seeing it drained.  I'm seeing myself in an unreasonable, ridiculous hole that I've put myself into, and can't seem to climb back out of.


Please pray for me!