I’ve been stolen from.
There’s been a burglary, and something very precious has been ruthlessly taken from me.
OK, so maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but I just don’t know how else to say it.
I have experienced so much joy throughout the past few years. Believe me–overflowing and overwhelming joy.
But this thief has taken what was once mine.
I need some answers, people.
Who is this thief?
Why did he steal my joy?
Where could he have possibly gone with it?
What in the world does he want with it?
How did he get away with it?
What I do know is that I first noticed something was missing a few months ago. I noticed that most things in my life were fine, but nothing felt fine. I know that every time he came to visit he would take a little piece of my joy with him, just enough to satisfy him, but not enough for me to notice… until now. I know that, although I’ve only realized it recently, he’s been scheming and plotting for a while now: his final heist.
The other day, I caught him red-handed.
I looked him right in the eye as he ruthlessly reached for my joy. Immediately, I froze and could do nothing to stop him. Why? Good question. Truthfully, I don’t quite know.
Maybe it was because I was shocked to see him for who he truly was.
Maybe it was because I was upset with myself for not realizing he was stealing from me sooner.
Maybe it was because one small movement from me might just prompt him to take even more.
Maybe it was because he flashed that devious smile at me as he walked away once again. This time, clutching the entirety of what I held so dearly just a moment before. He left me with a hollowed heart filled with only echoes of what once inhabited it.
Maybe it was because I had no idea that he had been a part of my life for so long and yet, even as he walked away, I could still feel him there.
Dread, worry, unease, apprehension, trepidation, and over-analyzation. They’ve all been partners in crime. This whole time, right under my nose (or, rather, above my nose). My brain has been letting these schemers in long enough for them to think they are welcome, and long enough for me to think it’s acceptable to host them.
I lack the excitement, the anticipation, and the verve for tomorrow that once came so naturally, and I think I have these scoundrels to blame.
But, I’ve been told that I am perfectly loved. I’ve been told that because of this great love, I am not consumed. I’ve been told that I never have to fear, because I am being cared for every second of every day by a God who numbered both the stars and the blood cells in my body. I’ve been told that perfect love casts out fear.
Now I just have to start believing it.
“…And my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for His compassions never fail.”
~ Lamentations 3:20-22 ~