September 9
Dear God, just you and me tonight. This letter is all yours. I don't really know how to get to know you, but I'm going to start with showing you my heart. I want to be vulnerable and raw with you. Maybe then, I can be those things with myself and others. I want to lean on you when I feel scared and weak and insignificant. I feel all those things. I want to know you are with me in moments of fear, and I want Jesus's bravery and courage to push me on. I don't know how this life works, but the more I struggle, the worse I feel. God, take it all out of my hands. I want to reset and realign and remember that my compass should always point to you. I want to love nothing else as much as you. That means I have some work to do. How can I love you if I don't know you? I'm starting to think that is what this solitude is all about. I'm not giving you the attention you deserve; you gave me your child, after all. I'm worn out in every sense of the word and I want to hear your words of comfort. Tonight, you told me not to be ashamed of you. It hurt my heart to think I act that way. And that I feel that way at all. I'm afraid of vulnerability and that reflects poorly on your character. Should the daughter of a king fear outside perception? No, she should know her worth in her maker. Help me find that. Reset and realign. Guide me to you. You were with me today, surely shielding me from evil and pain and all manner of unpleasant things. Thank you. Please don't let my thoughts stray from you. This is our season. I'm sorry for everything I've done to bring you sadness and pain. I love you, Lord.