When your heart is broken, and the sorrow feels like a knife thrust in to your beating heart. . .
When your beyond those tears, beyond the point of even trying to understand. . .

He is there.
He is carrying you, and you don't even know it.

There is always hope for me, because I can lift my weary eyes to that hill, sometimes I forget. . .
that hill.
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord.

The maker of heaven and earth, the breath of life, the artist who painted stars in the black night sky.

The ruler of the ocean's tide, when and if the sun and moon rise.
The coreographer of the plantet's orbits. . .
The cosmic intellectual who designed the universe.

We can't even comprehend the universe.
And he holds it in his hand.

I am confined to this body, confined to this world. . . these things that concern me now, they are only for a short while.

And while I feel I'm walking through the valley of the shadow,
I rest upon the hand of truth, whose love comforts me.
He is all the strength that I will ever need,
He will carry me.

And how can I forget that he has made everything beautiful in its time.
He's set eternity in the hearts of men.
Yet, they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

That's my God.

And He's carrying me.

Building a Case Against Myself

Reality has its way of getting in the way of our dreams. People give up so easy on goals that were at once in sight, and suddenly lost in a mist of hazy fog called "real life."
Of course, this all leads up to love.
Us women, we're obsessed with it. We want it so badly. We dream of it. And then, we experience it...
and it's NOTHING like it's cracked up to be.
Our hearts are broken repeatedly, we offer so much, we give our time, our energy, our attention, even our money to invest in a man who manipulates us into believing the dirty lie that we're worth nothing.
That's right. NOTHING.
Sure, he buys your dinner when you go out, he seems to like you, and he is really attractive. I mean, who wouldn't fall for those blue eyes and that charming smile?
Exactly it. Every other woman out there would. Problem is, all they see are the eyes and the smile. . . not the tears you cry each night as you lie in bed feeling hopelessly unwanted. Not the heart wrenching torment you go through as you wait for a call, just hoping, praying he hasn't been drinking again (without you there to babysit). Not the thoughts in your mind as you sit at that dinner table wondering when he will look over at you instead of every half decent looking female that walks by. Wishing he would just call you beautiful, look into your eyes and say, "I love you," and mean it. Give you some sort of security in the fact that he's in this because he truly desires you, and ALL you are. The man who realizes how lucky you are to have each other, not how lucky you are to have him.
So you wait, and wonder, and think about all these things. Your girlfriends call you stupid, and they tell you to get rid of the loser. Potential love interests beg for your attention, and its tempting. . . undoubtedly, just to be held. You can close your eyes and pretend your looking into those blue eyes and that sweet smile you fell for. But then you realize its not true, its not him, and you just feel empty inside again.
Your the angel on the roller coaster ride. You know you have wings, but you chose to take this wild ride, the highs, they are indeed highs, but the lows, they are deep and painful.
If you only knew what you did to me. . . why do I care, when you don't care for me?