I am at a crossroads in my life again. How many of these am I supposed to have? I am coming off an incredibly disappointing chapter that seems to negate the happy seasons before it.

People can be such a let down.

Deceit, apathy and selfishness are poison to a relationship but it’s in the encounter of these drugs that we have no choice but to confront our true selves and aggressively stare our egos in the face. Our egos that want the last word and the final say. My ego is clawing at ways to be malicious, cruel and play the victim. I need to let this die. I need to grow deeper roots.

Growing involves splitting and ripping and creaking and aching. Why does something that is meant to be beautiful take such ugly qualifications to get there? God, I hate soul expansion.

My ego is wounded and I’m left with a choice: I can patch it up with shiny illusions and creative speech or I can let it die.

Retaliation (something I think I’m quite good at) has no place here. Let me rephrase that, it has every place here but I don’t want to give it a foothold. So I sit on my hands. So I pray. Another chunk of my ego is executed. Leah is one more man down (literally).

I am usually the one who gives people the benefit of the doubt and I’m quite expert at seeing potential. My downfall is the self sacrifice I make for others at the expense of my fragile heart. When trampled on I have trained myself to rise again but there comes a time to separate ‘work Leah’ from ‘relational Leah’ and give it a rest.

The pain is real and so is the anger. The gentle child side of me that enjoyed being sung goodnight to by my mom decades ago is back and I’m scared of being alone. I don’t want the song to end and I don’t want to have to face the dark.

Please, anything but me and my thoughts.

But I let the song end. I take a breathe and realize that with time will come morning. The darkness and evil from fear and sin will fade and dawn’s light will creep into my room and usher in new opportunities to try again.

Leah’s heart is still seven, even as my body ages and experiences make me grow up.

The kid in me is also the spirit in me. Jesus comes to me now as the same friend who I would run to as a child. Then, my ego was small and unformed. I was a master shape shifter but with age I have had to lay down my armor to start to get close to my real self. Being naked and exposed is painful but so is putting to rest an idea that you put your faith in.

Failed relationships are physical ailments. I believe it is the disappointment in the other, the holding of breathe in myself and the glimpses of betrayal that force me to return to my core and weep.

Jesus wept too.

It’s a scary dark place and we don’t want to go there, but it seems I am called to return (it’s just that it usually takes a breaking of trust and heart with another to get there). Sin is a nasty thing but it’s a lot like picking your nose. It’s disgusting when others do it but you probably do it too. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (it’s just way easier to see how much more corrupt the other person is).

The worst thing that could have happened in the Book I so strongly rely on was the death of the one who was supposed to come save us. The best thing in those pages was His coming back to be.

We must die before we live.

We must love and be broken before we can know Love. I cannot see this clearly and hear this sharply when my world is working. The shards on the ground draw me to the ground and it’s there my knees meet my maker and I begin to see. My tower that I often choose to live in cannot be based on people or accomplishments or another mile in the books.

I was loved before I did anything and it’s true Love that finds me time and time again when the fake stuff washes away.