I don’t have anything to say.

I’ve been hiding from people who’ll make me speak anyways.

…and contemplating whether this poverty of soul is something I should battle to overcome or just live with till it passes. Either way, I’m afraid it doesn’t make me much to be around. Besides that I can’t come up with anything to say but obvious observations or inconsequential questions, I eventually lose patience with other people’s inanities. It’s funny how empty people have a sixth sense for lack of substance in others. People of depth find depth in even puddle-like people (shallow and muddy).

(Living in England you learn that you never know the depth of a puddle till you’ve stepped in it.)

This blog haunts me. Me among others, apparently. Every other day or so I stop by thinking, I have to post something…surely there’s something I can say…say…just say something. Scraping the bottom of the barrel for quality or passion…or cold porridge.

Dead air.

But eventually explaining why you’re not posting becomes more troublesome than just posting. And here we are. We’ll be having marmite on the toast today, children. Jam’s all out.



9 thoughts on “

  1. I’ve been having a bad-Bethany month. What is with this anyway? I hate being the least considerate/productive/Godly person I know…and then I get peeved about that; and talk about viscious cycles, you know? The Wellies are great, though.

  2. Poverty of Soul ~ wow, what a scathing, scary, vulerable, insecure place to be.  I’m getting kind of aquainted with it, and finding it to strangely be an answer to my prayers.  I never really knew before that right there in my confusion of nothingness and pain and feelings of abandonment and complete inability to lift anything inside of me to God or to anyone else — yeah, there — that’s where God wants to meet me.  He’s really tired of me trying to get a camel through the eye of a needle on my own.  He likes me in the place I’m most scared and ashamed and mad to be.  Hmmm…  It takes courage to meet God there, because, at least my biggest fear, is that He won’t, so I don’t even have the bravery to really expect or even to hope to see Him there. 
    Somehow we think that God expects lives of passion and fearless, confident faith–and maybe that’s the result He’s going for, but He really hates it when we expect that of ourselves without realizing that what He desires most is worship in spirit and in truth — to just groan before him without words in the truth of being right where we’re at, being exactly very messily exactly who we are — and just be with him there. 
    Jesus became aquainted with our human experience in every way.  He knows the weakness of suffering and the excruciating pain of feeling the darkness when the Father turns His face…
    Sometimes I’m so scared to even turn towards God in my heart because I fear the desert I have to face; the horizon on the journey to God that seems endless; I fear he’s not listening, not caring, leaving me… alone…
    I don’t know, Em, I’d love to talk with you sometime, or send you some stuff that I wrote during the summer–cause I know–and pilgrims aren’t meant to walk alone.  And the only place I’ve found courage to even face God in my pain and my fear and my absolute barrenness has been in the faith and friendship of other people. 
    Love you,  Rachel 

  3. Yikes!  Emily!  Think of something nice, funny….yeah, you do funny good.  But DON’T reveal weaknesses.  AHHHHHH.  This is not a good evangelical thing to do.  People might start thinking you’re a real person….

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