Not my will,

But Yours be done.

So here I wait.

Wait.

Knowing the good

Is growing,

Getting better

Because

I’m choosing

The best.

 

The best.

Subjective,

Maybe,

But values

Drive us,

Make us

Who we are.

Fully alive

Beings,

Free-willed.

What is the best?

It’s this.

This laying down.

This letting go,

This less of me

And more of You,

This releasing of

An independent spirit.

It’s this.

Breathing.

 

We’re not meant to go it alone.

Taking thought to only us,

Here, now.

Blind to the path ahead,

Cause it all leads somewhere.

That independent path.

Can you see it?

Where are you going?

You are alone.

Calling the shots.

Making educated guesses,

Or,

Foolishly following

Fluctuating feelings.

I need a steady guide.

I am not meant to go alone.

I can’t trust myself.

I need a Strider.

Who knows all the paths

Cause he’s been there.

One whose walked in my shoes

Who understands this,

“Not my will, but Yours be done.”

 

The best usually involves pain.

Usually involves self-denial,

Most definitely involves

Me asking for help.

Hard isn’t easy.

You don’t walk through hard alone.

You ask for help.

 

And He gives it.

Without conditions.

Help doused,

Soaked,

Flooded

With Love

Which lets out fear

And lets in trust.

His will,

His way,

Is worth it.

And the best is coming

And I’m sure it’s here

And He can see it

And I can see Him

And He can see farther,

Cause I am so small,

But I can read hope

In His eyes.

Written  April 30, 17