Petrified Hope in My Fucking Feelings

I’ve tried to convince myself that none of it matters. That J doesn’t matter. I’ve tried telling myself I could just get over it and move on. I even tried convincing myself that he’s just a crazy close resemblance. Or that maybe this entire thing has been a grand fabricated illusion.

But if I do that… If it’s all crazy and none of it is real then I have to also believe the words of God are not. That my personal relationship with him has been fabricated. I’m not prepared to even consider that. I can’t. I’ve come too far down the rabbit hole. Come what may, Abba is real.

And so what does that mean for this whole debacle in my brain? What does it mean about demons and and prophecy and destiny? I couldn’t tell you. Still haven’t figured it all out. But I know I miss my old friend. The happy moments that I let slip right by while I wasn’t watching. What moments are slipping by me now while I’m busy focusing on a past I can’t change and a future that I can’t predict with any real certainty.

Occasionally my mind wanders elsewhere now, at least. It wanders to my residents. I adore them. I spend most of my time with them so why wouldn’t I see them as friends. Though sometimes I wish the professional boundaries were not there. Sometimes I wish I was just a friend coming to help and spend time with them. I don’t have that freedom though.

My mind also wanders to Uganda. To a little girl I see there waiting for me: Dieta. Perhaps this is a mission I should pursue more strongly, but it seems so big and I feel so small. There is so much red tape. Getting to Uganda I could probably Do, God willing. Bringing Dieta back is a whole new rodeo. I wonder how long it will be before I meet her. If I don’t make it there, will she be alone forever?

If you are reading this please pray for me to know what to do. It seems I don’t take guidance well. I have to be slapped in the face with a solution, even then I sometimes don’t see what’s right in front of me. Like J. I’m sorry J. No matter how many times I say it he’ll never be able to hear it.

I miss you J. I wish you were here with me through this. That I could talk to you and you’d care. We could solve this puzzle together perhaps. Or maybe I just idealised you in hindsight. I don’t know but I can’t seem to force myself to try to make a connection with anyone else while you occupy my mind so stubbornly.

I hope I see you soon. I hope you are nice.

Hope can be petrifying.