Only, I'm scared.
As much as I want the present, I'm not convinced it's for me and I'm not convinced that what's inside is actually what I think it is. I'm scared that the moment I step out to grab it, someone will take it away from me. This isn't for you...not this time. I'm scared that the moment I rip into it, instead of the pony that I've been wanting my entire life, I'll find myself ensnared by a dragon. A cruel joke.
Because it's happened before.
And so I'm scared to try again.
But I want the present...and so much of me is convinced that it's truly good, that it's exactly what I want, that it's intended just for me.
I wonder how much our past ruins us sometimes.
How much do the wounds inflicted, the trust that's been broken, the fears that have taken such a deep root in us ruin us? How much do they ruin the good things in our lives because we're unwilling to believe that this time it could actually be different?
I've found myself continually resistant and fearful of the good in my life (can't you tell?). It's a place of vulnerability as I try to navigate through the waters of brokenness and pain and emerge on top as hopeful and excited. How does one find the strength to get back up on the bike after she has crashed, skidded and bruised up her body? How does one overcome the fear of riding in cars after a brush with death in a car accident?
How do we recover?
How do we keep on going?
How do we hope for different results when all we know is the pain and disappointment of rejection, betrayal, and abandonment?
I'm actually recognizing how much easier it is to do heartbreak. As much as I sometimes feel like I couldn't bear it ever again, there's a safety in the fact that it's known. I know what it feels like to have pain. I know what it feels like to open the present and have it not be what I wanted. I know what it feels like to have the present dangled in front of me and then taken away. I know how to move on. I know how handle my heart getting ripped out of my chest. And as awful and heart-wrenching as it is, I know it.
It's this strange existence of wanting the good, being scared of the good, finding comfort in the bad, while simultaneously recognizing how the bad makes me scared of wanting, hoping and believing there could be good. Because the bad affects us. The bad affects our ability to receive the good as fully as we might otherwise long to. And yet, for whatever ridiculous reason, we find ourselves embracing the bad because at least it's something we know, something we know how to handle.
But I want the good.
I want the fullness of the gift that's intended for me that's everything I hoped it could be, even though I know it's nothing I deserve. I want to believe that it's possible. No matter how many times the gift has been snatched back, no matter how many times it's not turned out to be what I want...I want to believe that it's possible.
To not dwell in the pain of the past, to not be limited by my broken perspective, to not exist in lost hope... but to truly hope, to trust, to believe that God is who He says He is. To recover. To keep on going. To get back on the bike and ride again, convinced that this time around there's a good chance I won't fall. To not find comfort in what is known and step into something unknown...To open the gift.
To embrace the goodness of what lies within.
To be hopeful that this time.... this time it may just be for me and it may just be exactly what I've always wanted.
It's a beautiful thing.
The hope that we can cling to because of how faithful the Lord truly is.
Because of how He heals, because of how He redeems, because of how He saves. And then on top of all that (as if He hasn't already done enough...), He lavishes gifts upon us. Gifts that are intended for us that are exactly what we've been praying for all along.
Let us learn to receive without trepidation, without fear of the unknown and wounds of the past influencing our ability to walk faithfully into the blessings the Lord has for us.
Even when we are so unworthy...
He still gives abundantly more than we could ever fathom.
I'm opening the gift.
Hopeful.
Excited.
Nervous.
But fully confident that this is what the Lord has for me right now and that it's even better than what I thought it ever could be.
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