Where You See Me

Curled in a ball under the duvet.

Eyes clenched tight. So tight the tears pooling inside can’t escape.

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I rock and clench and hum and pretend.

Pretend that the whole world is here inside this coccoon of warmth I’ve made for myself here is my bed. In the dark.

Muted sounds muffle their way through the layers of protection. This armor of fluff and fuzz.

I do my best to pretend they aren’t there. Or they are the waves of some far off shore upon which I wish to be. Alone. Secluded. In my fluffy cocoon.

Open your eyes, He whispers.

Hmm-mm. My head shaking violently side to side. Nope.

Look. He urges again.

No. The word so faint only He and I can hear it.

Why, sweet girl? He strokes my head.

Because if I look I’ll see.

And if I see I’ll feel.

And if I feel I’ll care.

And if I care I must act.

And? He encourages…

And…it’s too much. To much hurt. Too much despair Too much of everything. How will I know where to begin? What to say? Who to help?

Do you see here, where I am? He asks, tenderly.

Yes.

Start there. Right where You see Me waiting.

Five Minute Friday

Every Friday I join up with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday, where we write for 5 minutes, unedited. This week’s prompt is LOOK.

I’ve also linked up with Hope for Hurting Hearts, Time Warp Wife, Life: Unmasked

Comments 21

  1. Oh, this piece of writing for FMF is gorgeous. I pray you WERE able to see Him. Waiting right there for you. This is going to stay with me all day. Thank you for sharing it with us!

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  2. I am quite sure that I can relate to that comfortable ball hiding under the covers. It feels so overwhelming to actually look and see all the needs and the hurts around us. And to feel so inadequate to be able to do anything about it. Thanks for sharing that voice that nudges and encourages us to start at the beginning and to follow His lead. To not hide, but actually see.

    Christy
    A Heartening Life – http://www.ahearteninglife.com

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  3. The picture here is vivid. I saw it yesterday when I took my daughter to an appt. with her therapist– minus the tears . She had drawn herself up into her chair refusing to speak. The Therapist quietly knelt beside her speaking softly . You just showed me how God does the same with us.

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  4. I’ve tagged you in a “blogathon.” Don’t feel obligated to follow “the rules,” if you don’t want to. Just paying tribute to my enjoyment of your blog. 🙂 Lisa

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  5. Pingback: 2 Kinds of Nothing -

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