it's coming apart

I still play the album that M. let me take of hers--even though its songs are all about lost love, separation, colorless land and skies, sharing things and letting them go. This cd belonged to me before it all went down. I'm still praying for her. I don't know how to leave it all behind, really. I don't know if it'll ever be right--God, let it be right.

So I'm playing my "sad songs" playlist. I don't know why. Sometimes these songs get me in a writing mood--one more contemplative than silly. Just an hour ago, I would've come to my blog and wanted to tell my secrets--the fact that I ate more Oreos tonight than I want to say, that I did it all by myself... that I'm embarrassed because it's not the first time.

There were some other secrets I might've partially disclosed earlier. Some people are better at letting it all out--usually I admire those people. The world needs more honesty, but it also needs wisdom. I need both.

In reading more of Matthew, chapter 9, I wanted to know how the woman who touched Jesus and was healed of her twelve-year bleeding problem really felt about her condition. Had she accepted it by then? Had she become fed up? Does it even matter? Was her healing somehow contingent upon what was in her heart--or was it solely God's doing?

"Out of the heart, the mouth speaks," perhaps; but even the Pharisees show us that out of the heart, the behavior doesn't always speak. That goes, too, for a body incurring illnesses and so forth.

Sometimes, I feel that certain aspects of my experiences in church have given me the wrong prescriptions to some of my questions and/or problems. Illness, for one, has sometimes been accused as being evidence of sin in a person's life. I don't know if I ever actually received this pill, but I may as well have. The one I did have lots of trouble swallowing--which I felt like I got from a bunch of people (and not so much from God)--was similar, in that it focused more on the healing. Being in the right state of mind, being *willing* to receive God's will and his healing... so that when I never got healed of diabetes, I assumed it was my fault. I wasn't approaching God the right way--I wasn't believing enough, or willing enough.

I also sometimes think I've been too accepting of my disease. If I were more distressed by it, perhaps, then I would be healed. Lies. Lies. I don't know if they really are complete lies--but they're not the word, they're not Jesus' words. In the gospels, Jesus didn't dwell on people's feelings about their sicknesses. We're to fix our eyes on Him--not on our own conditions. Take your mat and walk. Have faith in Him, not faith in your faith. Right?

But now I don't know why I've gotten off about this. It's helped to gather a lump in my throat again--because I really feel like a baby sometimes. Diabetes? Come on! It hasn't been a problem. I've been provided for my whole life--I've gotten great medical care so far... and now I just feel like a little kid every time I think about having to get help with this. Not quite knowing how to go about getting medical coverage for all of my "needs" and my "pre-existing conditions." How to switch over to a new insulin if I need to, how to give this over to God's control.

Still don't know why I cry all the time. Sort of wish I could've gotten past that part of my childhood... Well, guess that's it. Thought I'd end on something more uplifting, though. I don't know what else to say.