this blog is becoming so trivial, it is not worth reading anymore. i can sense myself clamping up, becoming more and more withdrawn. the zest of younger years vanishing into thin air. the struggles becoming so often it's not worth writing about. little things too trivial it's not worth reading about. somehow there's nothing to be excited about anymore. somehow there is a lot more burdens weighing me down.
i feel myself morphing into someone i don't know, and this person scares me. so numb, so fidgety. this sense of weirdness has persisted for so long now. the lack of satisfaction has been lingering. i still recall that particular summer day, the fresh morning air streaming into the huge victorian windows, lying in the soft cushiony bed, reading a book by Elizabeth Elliot. Each morning, huddled up against a small wooden stool, peering expectantly into Your Word, relishing each revelation, then walking in the fresh morning breeze, looking into the blue blue sky, together we rejoice at the goodness of the Lord.
Nowadays, encompassed about by weary worldliness, stuffy and stifled, fearful and petrified. every plant i set my hand to withers and die. and there's that sense of weirdness once again. i really don't understand it. is it the change in human interaction? or the change in routine/responsibilities/studies content. always in one miry mud if not in miry clay. there is not a moment when i can enjoy total abandonment of myself, steeped in Your Word. the interruptions, fear of interruptions. necessities. counting each minute, each second left to complete my work. no moment to rest, no moment to relax. clinging on tightly. clenching hard. must i be reduced to dust. can i not learn this another way?