Rumble Tumble

Sometimes I am as real as a glass window and on the misted panes I write letters to you. I can never really show who I really am and niether can you really show me who you are. We all write to one another, through actions, through words, and through thoughts. Showing shadows of our real selves hidden in these decaying shells. No I can never really show myself to you, so I write on these window panes. "This kid loves you". Silence. "This guy needs you". Silence. A small fingertip traces the words quickly and frantically. All that I ever wanted to say sits plainly on the outside of my heart, but to trust anyone to draw near those treasured words is a notion I run from. Upon hearing a man in a forest, a deer instintively poised to run. To run for life to run from pain. Danger. I would admit I have often felt this way. My dear sister is always quick to get the heart of a matter and I mean the very heart. That is what I love most about her. She is the only one that seems to want to know what I truely feel. And if others have wanted to know, they never asked. Perhaps I wouldn't tell her all my mistakes, but my mistakes are not my feelings. So, I could imagine myself always being able to speak with her about those things that hurt me the most. But with others this an intimacy I dread. You have not speant the years with me, to deserve these words. I want my words to worth their weight in gold, with which we buy the purest love. I know from this seeing you as you really are takes time. Knowing and loving you as you are takes time. I know from hurts you also would like to hide from me. Sometimes people's questions can seem like knife stabs rather than caring hands, but such is the matter of hearts. I remember one time in highschool I was asked a question along the lines of: "What does a guy want in the world". I said, "To be appreciated". Everyone laughed. Then at the time I didn't know, but I my answer related to my own desire to be appreciated. However, being a methodical and deep thinking as I am I gave the answer I thought everyone could relate to. Not the superficial answer like money, cars, or women. Perhaps it wasn't what I wanted or needed most in the world. But it sure was one of the many things we all have been designed to want. This reminds me of that thought that says that every human has been created with a "God" shaped hole in their hearts. That in these longings to be appreciated, to be respected, or to ultimately be loved. It is only God our maker, who fits and completes that hole. I like to think of myself as a robot, and Jesus bought a lost and vital peice that is key to my functionality. Without that peice I can never fully work or to do what I was engineered to do. You all know how Jesus bought this precious part of all of us. :)