I don't do well with emotions. A councilor I saw said that was the most devastating issue I had to deal with. Emotion. "Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward" Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
I cried last night. I would like to blame it on my last pregnancy changing my hormones and making me some weepy twit... but really, I am human. I suppose it is O.K. to cry once in a while. I cried to God and my husband, whoever cared enough to listen, that it wasn't fair. It's not fair that we are punished for doing the right thing, and the people who blatantly disregard the rules and truth get everything they want. I lay awake at night tortured by my good actions and they sleep sound in their twisted deeds.
It's not fair. But it's life. And I cried.
My husband whispered sweet words while I broke. He held me and told me that he knew we would deal with all this. That every pain and penny was worth the days he had with us. He told me things my heart needed to hear.
God whispered hard truths while I broke. Pray. Pray for those that persecute you. Speak blessings not curses. He sees the sparrow and he sees me. Breathe, just breathe.
I don't want to bless him. I don't want to love him. I want him to go away.
I prayed for his heart. I prayed for his mind. I prayed that whatever vendetta he had would be broken.
Hate is a twisted disease. It is contagious. It picks apart your meaty bits to your bony bits. It will rot you. I started this journey to beak my vendettas against myself... I guess God had more in mind. He took this time in my life where there is not much going on for me to learn about myself. I am learning to like the quiet. I am learning to breathe.
And I prayed.