i write to believe.

It's been too long.  My words have become an empty longing.  And I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this blog right now.   The days have increasingly become tiring.  My work has been too toxic.  And I've ran out of words to describe it.  My thoughts come out in short phrases.  In desperately captured sentences.  And most of the time what I see, I can only capture in digital polaroids.   I wonder why I often lose my thoughts to busy-ness.  I have been praying for a new breakthrough.  A new environment.  A new experience.  But, I'm still in waiting.   I hope you can pray for me while I wait.  While I sort things out.  And while I try to remain steadfastly clinging on to grace.  For that is all I have today.

It's an early morning quiet.  The weekend has ended and I'm off to another day at work.  It starts out with a serious 8:00am meeting.  My heart's half into it and half wandering off into a dream.  I linger here for most of the morning because that place has been quite soothing to me as of late.  The rhythm of her words and the photographs of grace.   I'm trying to learn how she says "eucharisteo" in every moment.   This morning, I give thanks and let me heart open as wide as it can to the blessings I seldom see. The birds vibrant in their chirping. The cloudy morning fighting off the summer's heat. The words of writers that remind me of a beautiful life that can be lived. The breakfast food I'm starving for. The work that's going to get done today. I'm trying out this habit.  Even when my insides churn to almost spit everything out in disgust.  It's only my bitterness working when I am not able to give thanks.  

The past week and a half has been excruciatingly tiresome until I realized that it's time.  It's time to admit the full depth of my weariness.  It's time to admit the full extent of my weakness.   It's time to say, "I no longer can.  I've reached the end of myself." I've learned this a few years ago.  That when you reach the end of yourself, God's work can fully begin.  I've kept on moving into this place of rest.  In and out.  To and fro.  Battled with the struggle between pursuit and rest.  I've found it hard to understand what it means to "work hard" and at the same time "surrender".  I found it confusing to reconcile.   I've sought for answers in so many words.  So many people.  So many books.  Until I realized that I've been moving on my own capability to understand.  To intellectualize.  This faith I claim to live authentic.   I got it all wrong again.   Last week, I finally gave up