I don't really know what I'm supposed to write. Heck, I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. Everything is rather muddled, as it usually is by the time I hit the last few hours of 'decision making time' for any decision. I hate my indecision. I hate the confusion. I hate not knowing.
Part of me wishes I had all the answers, and yet I know (somewhere inside my thick skull) that I have THE answer: God. He knows. He has a plan. He's figured it all out. I just still... don't know what to do.
So I sit here, waiting for some message to pop up on the screen or some voice to come bellowing from somewhere, or someone to hand me a road map with a big red X on it for where I'm supposed to go (along with a timetable, please). Or maybe they could just say "God says finish this.", or "God says put it behind you and go do XYZ."
My tummy feels funny. It's that weird, nauseous (or 'oogy', as we call it in my family) feeling that somehow goes along with really craving ice cream and chocolate. Except I think if I did I'd feel worse, so scrap that idea. Somehow it's a desperate longing for fulfillment, even if extraordinarily temporary. I'm so vulnerable. And humiliated, before the Lord.
Oh Jesus... please. Please!!!
Trusting His Royal Imagination,