That Kind of Cry

It was the kind of cry that makes you fold over on yourself. The cry that you feel coming from the very pit of your stomach.
It hurts.
The kind of cry mixed in with a multitude of cuss words, confusion, anger, hurt.
The child-like cry.
The ugly cry, not the cry that Hollywood actors and actresses look so beautiful doing.

There was me.
There was the curb.

Somewhere between walking around staring at the stars, I ended up sitting on curb sobbing into my own lap.

Last night, at that very same curb I had been in a car with a boy, kissing. I knew he could care less about me.

I stared at the ring on my finger which represented purity and in disgust hurled it at the ground. I cheated, yet again, on the Lover of my soul. Betrayed Him, with a kiss.

“Who the hell am I, God?”

It’s one of the many questions I had managed to get out between the overwhelming, body shaking cries.

I had lost me somewhere.

Over certain events and circumstances, I had knocked myself off this path that was destined for greatness.

And I had no clue how to remove myself from the quicksand I had taken a leap into.

I hated myself.
And it was almost to the point where I hated everyone around me.
I hated church.
I hated the Christianese.
I hated the idea of someone laying their hands on me, as if I had forgotten how to pray for myself.
I hated it all.

“PRAYER WORKS.”
“WALK THE FAITH WALK.”

Phrases coming from people whose life was to what seemed a dream to me.

Now before you get your religious undies in a wad, I know the power of prayer and how important faith is. I am not discrediting that at all.

It just is so much easier to say that and believe when life is going right.

I began to mumble out the song “Rescue”.

I need You Jesus to come to my rescue.
Where else can I go?
There is no other name by which I am saved
Capture me with grace
I will follow you.

It was one of those deep cries out to deep moments.

Oh that He is a God not put off by my sins.

I had allowed sin to creep back into my life. I had allowed the thoughts of other people create this spirit of rejection, which sent me to anyone and everyone to see if they’d accept me.

I had began to morph back into the girl I use to be.

And that just could not happen.

After about 30 minutes of crying and repenting of my stupid sins. I stopped and listened.

The slight swaying of the trees caused by a simple breeze.

Silence.
Peace

The simplicity of shutting up is so beautiful.

“Shh. Rest easy. Rest easy…”

Those words punctured my heart. Oh how I missed the voice of my Daddy. He was there all along, I just didn’t shut up to listen.

I stood up.
Weak in my knees.
Eyes swollen.
Head throbbing.

I didn’t know how to get where I was heading.
But I knew for that moment, I was going to rest easy and listen.

I still am so unsure.
But I know my God, my Daddy, holds me in the palm of His big, safe hands, and that right now, for this moment, I am listening.

It was that kind of cry that got me to shut up, rest easy, and listen.

*live a legitimately imperfect life*

-Judith

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