THE PLEA

I am looking up, my Lord. To you, I look up and down in humility. Here you are again. You are always here even when I am unaware. I am sorry for my sleep. I am sorry for my anger. I am sorry for my disillusionment. I am sorry for my disappointment. It is not due to a lack of want that I remain distant. It is just too painful to be near you.

Do I sound like a stupid child if I ask that you not abandon me? If I plead that you be patient and strong for me? Am I asking for too much? Do I sound like a hypocrite? To want you near but not too near? How will I learn to stand on my own two feet if you catch me every time I fall? And yet, how I will stand on my own two feet, if you never catch me? What kind of a message would that bring? You would never have me believe you do not care. Ah, I must be a fool to speak with you like this.

Let me feel this pain. This depth. This Love. Let it sink way down to the roots of my being so that it is able to rise up through my veins and back into my heart. I know it is the only way. I know this is what I asked for. I know that you will deliver. I know that it is done. I know that this is mine. I worked for it, even when I was unsure of the outcome. I know Beauty is to be found in the process, in the journey. I know that Joy is to be found through the embracing of Sorrow. Now I know what Kahlil Gibran meant. Now, I understand the bitter sweet taste of Truth.

How many times have I ended up in this very spot, suspended in the air, upside down? Too many to mention, my Lord. But I recall there was a time, even if I cannot place it, when I had asked for all of this. How is it that I am certain? I must have longed to want in a particular way, in a way that ensured I would never be fully satisfied. How else would I come to know the I that is me? You knew I would not settle for less. You knew how I wished for the Real and the only way it would reach me, was through this downward spiral, this pulling down, this sweet suffering. I think of Simone Weil. She was right too.

So much heaviness for such a small heart. But do not worry. My heart will expand to make room for more. It is what you meant when you said that I would see? Right? Let my cup overflow. Please. Until my tears become my strength, my refuge, my salvation. Until I become Love itself. Do not deny me. I can take it. And when you see that it is too much, do not interfere. I only ask that you have your hands ready, just in case.