FWF

I've moved on.

Well, sort of...

It's just that your memory and your impact-- lingers.

It festers really.

Like old bones that hurt in the cold or

Like an old wound that shoots searing pain at random moments

Or like a ghost limb that itches regardless of its amputation.

I've written this a million times.

I've thought of it a billion times.

Why did you do it?

Was it a game to you?

Did I hurt you so badly that you wanted to make me pay?

Did I mean so little to you that you didn't even care how your actions would hurt me?

Destroy me?

Destroy my family?

How was it going to end?

I left because of you… did you know that?

And I'm glad I did--most of the time.

My friends.

It's the "I'm calling just to chat"
The "wanna go to Barnes with me?"
The "Oh My Goodness, let me tell you what happened..."
That makes a friend.

The back and forth,
You come to my place and I'll come to yours.
The "have you seen this movie?"
The "watchu doing after church?"

Thank God for friends who think you're funny
And who can crack you up.
Thank God for people who WANT to spend time with you.
Thank you Jesus for my friends.

I needed my mommy

I called my mom after church today. 

The events of this morning probably would have stayed with me all day. Maybe even all week, but what my mom had to say helped me break free of the insecurity and embarrassment that immediately follow a mess up on stage. Not even my husband can lift me up from the depths that I fall when something like that happens to me. 

I have to find a lesson in these types of situations. This will not be my last Sunday when I mess up on stage. I have to find a way to understand that it really is no big deal. 

It's just at the moment it doesn't feel that way. It feels mortifying. I feel compelled to flee. Just run away. Crawl under a rock. And cry.