It's that teeny little voice that whispers to you that everything is going to be okay. Some days it is the only thing that tells you that it's safe to go outside, or to venture and try something new. It's that beautiful little dandelion that grows in your yard: first yellow and vibrant, letting you know exactly what a happy thing it is. Then it turns white, waiting for a chubby little hand to pluck it and a breath of air to blow it so that it can scatter seeds and embed themselves into your life. It is the whisper in the dark room that some day everything will be okay. It is not something in the absence of pain/suffering/fear, it is something that plants itself in the midst of those things and grows up and spreads until it chokes out everything else. It is the weed in your desire to stay stagnant in the past.
The last few days have been... tough. There is the normal college thing of finals and stress, combined with friends, the job I have now, job(s) I may have over the summer, and life in general. Plus, there are my own little difficulties that I am dealing with right now.
On Sunday, pretty much from the time I dragged my sorry butt out of bed, I had the overwhelming, crushing feeling that God had given up on me. That he didn't want me. Because why would he want me???? After all, I'm broken, and I feel used up.
Being as omnipotent as He happens to be, God kept leaving little messages for me. First it was a long Facebook message from someone I have never met before, telling me that she was praying for me, and that she believed that God wanted me to be happy and was there for me. It was pretty amazing.
I fought with God through the entire sermon. It went something like:
Me: "You don't want me. Why are you even still here? Go away, leave me alone, like you have always wanted to."
God : "How do you know what I want? I love you."
Me: "You don't love me. Why would you?"
God: "Because I made you. I love you."
Me: "You didn't make me like this. Just give up already."
God: "But I love you."
Me: "I don't think that's possible."
God: "Anything is possible when you believe in me. Do you trust me?"
Me: "Actually... no."
God: "OK. I love you."
Me: "Stop saying that!"
*The Pastor interrupts my thoughts with his sermon*: "God loves us all, and He is proud of every one of us. He is the true shepherd."
Me: "For everyone except me."
God: "But I love YOU."
Me: "Fine. Whatever. Let's just end the conversation here."
In case you didn't notice in that little exchange, I'm extremely stubborn and resistant when God tries to talk to me. But He doesn't give up. Ever.
I don't know a lot right now. Okay, that isn't true... it's finals and I'm writing my capstone. I should know a lot. But I don't know how God works.
But God is the ultimate stalker: he won't leave us alone. He is the quiet voice of hope, that gets us through each tough day. But if hope is a dandelion, then God plants sunflowers of truth and love. Big, tall, yellow, and slightly obnoxiously happy. No matter what we believe about Him.
God isn't about to quit on me, and I don't actually want Him to. I want to be a field that is completely yellow with dandelions. Maybe a few sunflowers, too.
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