Forever Stained with Georgia Clay

The stress level in my life has intensified immensely in the past two weeks. That always happens when my living environment becomes tensions; not so much that I’ve been wronged or am in danger, but rather the challenge of dying to myself and the battle with in to refrain from stepping in where I need not be. I cast my arms around such earthly things, and when they are shaken, I too am blown to bits in the gale of quarrels and strife. I’ve begun to understand in a more intimate  sense how vitally important it is for me to anchor myself on the stone foundation of Jesus Christ. A lesson I’ve heard a hundred thousand times or more. But it is ringing true in my life today. The last two weeks are a blur. I feel unsettled personally due to circumstances surrounding me, all of which are things I cannot control. I am unhappy at work, unhappy at home and unhappy at church-the only three places I go regularly. I almost feel like I am stuck here forever. I’ve pursued some escapes but keep getting brought back here. I am not a rebellious girl, just one desperate for change and not too sure were that alteration needs to be in my life.

I have a dream of a little stone house nestled in the quilted folds of the rolling green. I have a small garden dedicated to roses, with a flush of daffodil and tulip in the spring. My two spirited horse facilitate the means of my escapes on those night that are so bright and so starlit that I just have to run as far away from civilization as I can in order to absorb their luminous glow. I carry a tremendous amount of pressure to make my cottage fairyland come true. I have a heartbeat for home and mine is in shambles. I don’t mean to be bitter or hateful, but I am so crippled by my fear that I will be stuck here forever. Forever stained with Georgia clay.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I don’t want a lot or need anything, except hope that I will not be here forever. Hope that my home will not always be chaotic. Hope that one day the voice of God will penetrate through the fog in my mind in such a powerful way that I won’t ever resort back to the tiresome worries of my world.

Sometimes God calms the sea.

Sometimes God calms the sailor.

But sometimes He makes us swim.

I am swimming in an ocean of fear, while the winds of regret loom over me, and the thunder of hopelessness echos in my mind. The waters are surely rough. But how can I – ” consider it pure joy”? Its has been a full three years of personal hardship and sadness. Struggle and battles. Lord I am ready for a season of goodness. 

Maybe one day I’ll have the richest, greenest grass, the most majestic of horses, and acres and acres of roses. That little clay stain on my favorite jeans will bring my back here, and I’ll begin a whole new cycle of sadness, and I’ll come galloping home and roll in the mud.


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