The Sly Whisperings

It's very late, my medication has long worn off, and the caffeine from my favorite tea is fading as well. But I made a commitment to myself that I would post every day. So here I am, with no clue as to what I'm going to write about or how I'm going to bring myself to reveal anything remotely personal. I think that once I get the hang of it, this will have been a really productive growing experience for me. Hopefully I'll learn to share my thoughts with other people and in the process figure out how to accept them myself.

I reckon I'll start with this morning. It did not start out well. It was not good. Not at all. If you have never experienced the sensation of icy water to the face in a warm and snugly bed, you have missed out on a character building opportunity. Poor unfortunate soul. Anyway. So that's how I woke up: lying in a not-so-warm-and-snugly, wet, miserable bed. I'll admit that it was pretty shocking. And it made me a little angry, so between the two I did shed a few tears. A nice hot shower fixed things right up again, but I couldn't help thinking that I want out of here. That's a commonly recurring theme in my life these days, but I'll save that for another day.

I wasn't doused for the simple fun of it, I promise, though sometimes I think my parents do have a wicked sense of humor. Mama gave me ample time to get out of bed and numerous chances. But I went back to sleep. Twice. I have an extremely hard time getting out of bed in the mornings. I can do it. I just have to make up my mind and be very committed to doing it, or I would sleep until noon every day. I guess I just need a lot of sleep.

Regardless of my physiological needs, the part of this whole ordeal that I find most interesting is that I'll get out of bed for myself (sometimes), but not for my parents. This seems to be a pattern of behavior for a lot of things in my life. I hadn't really considered that I was struggling in this area of my life until this morning.

Yesterday morning, I arrived at church with a desire to encounter some piece of information, some stirring song, some moving message that would convict my soul and motivate me to make a positive change. But I sat there through the devotional, the teen class, the song service, and the sermon, not feeling anything that satisfied that yearning.

I began, however, to see the parallel between the SS lesson and my current attitude after this morning's rude awakening. It really struck me that if I don't honor my parents, I really don't have much respect for the Almighty Father. And that is terrifying.

I do realize that much of my problem stems from my present mindset. I am plagued by low self-esteem and an almost non-existent self-worth. My self-respect is barely there, so it's hard to show that respect to another. That goes for a lot of things. If you don't love yourself, you will find it difficult to love another. If you don't think you deserve to be treated kindly, you won't show compassion to another. I'm working very hard toward accomplishing all these, but it is a long road and the kingdom of Darkness loves to leave stumbling blocks in the middle of it.

Logically, I should love myself as much as God loves me. If God thinks my worth is inestimable, who am I to say otherwise? I will say though, that it takes a lot of reprogramming to start listening to that voice when one has become so accustomed to listening to the sly whisperings of an angel who knows my every weakness and insecurity. I don't guess I'd ever thought of it that way til it just kinda came out just now, but feelings of worthlessness and insignificance certainly aren't from the God whose very essence is love.

This is a topic very heavy on my mind so you can look forward to future related posts. I'll dive a little deeper into the subject another day. In the meantime, please pray that I hear the Voice of Truth rather than the dark murmurings I've developed an ear for. Hasta luego y vaya con Dios.