I caught a glimpse of you this week: I have never known such fear. How could it and why did it have to be you?
When I have seen you in the past, you have smiled at me, greeted me, even embraced me. You have been to me as a loving child would be to a devoted father or a loyal wife to an honourable husband. When I have fallen you have been there to help pick me up, and have supported me through some dark days, often reminding me of who I would and could be. In the cold you have kept me warm, and in uncertain times kept me hoping. When I was tired you kept me going and when I have been lost, you have provided me direction. You 'understand' me.
My love for you and my pride have blinded and deafened me, keeping me from learning the truth, hiding me from grace.
I am angry with myself, for letting you in, and for sharing my life with you. I am frustrated with myself for refusing to see and denying the truth. A part of me wishes I was still oblivious to your true colours; remembering the simplicity of ignorance and the sense of comfort (though now I know it to be false) that loving you brings.
How could it be you? If I keep companion with you, you will lead me to an inevitable death. But how do I let you go? How do I move on? How could it be that you are me?
“The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles me”
(Image courtesy of Marilyn Ferdinand)
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