Foster #5 - Bella

She hasn't arrived yet, but it should be sometime within the next hour or so. She's two years old, half anglo, half hispanic.
Her name isn't really Bella, I can't put her real name on the internet, but her real name is so unusual that Bella is going to be an easier nickname for her anyway. Of course, that whole idea might change once she arrives.
These minutes, or hours between the phone calls and arrivals are the strangest part of the whole ordeal.

Where?

God, you are the maker of all creativity, please give me something to say. Speak to my heart and help me to unravel all the yuck that's inside me until I can find my way into a clearing Lord.
I don't want to live like this, I don't want to live and pray, and trust, but only in tiny portions. I want to believe for the incredible, for the sun stopping God that I've read you are, but I haven't met.
I always assume, that if I haven't met a bigger, better part of you that it's because I'm not ready for it. I want to be ready, I want to see more. I'm tired of dreaming and telling people how BIG and awesome you are, when you just don't seem big enough sometimes.

Someone once said that the thing they were most amazed about concerning you, was your ability to hold back. To NOT just 'bam' and make it happen, even though it leaves us screaming and confused. I get that... I really do... but it doesn't stop me from screaming and being confused.

You healed and you healed and you healed. Yet, people around me, no matter how much they pray, never seem to find complete healing. They say they're healed, they've been touched, and then a month later, two months maybe.. the same thing returns. That's not healing, that's a reprieve.

You sent your Holy Spirit, and the fire and power of that Spirit is suppose to be awesome. Someone else recently talked about how Elijah poured the water over the wood before he called down your fire to consume it. That kind of story leaves me hoping that even though we Christians seem dead, and dry, and passionless - that you're still able to fire us up. I want to see that. I really do. I'm sorry for every ounce of mediocrity in me, I don't want it there. I want to be absolute, a ball of fire and passion that is absolutely consumed with adoration for you and your kingdom.
But I just can't get past this great big wad of disappointment. I've said it before, and I'll say it again... I believe you can do anything. I just don't believe you will. And that just rips me up with confusion. Why won't you?

The same old Christian answer is that it's not your fault. It's mine. And while I've certainly failed, and failed, and failed, I don't know what it is you're waiting for from me. And everyone else around me who happens to be praying to you too.

The only other alternative is that you're not doing stuff, just for the sake of not doing stuff - because it's better for us. And I just don't get that transition from biblical times where so many were healed and changed because you apparently thought it was ok, and yet now every single person I know that needs to be healed, or to have their lives changed... it's not ok.

Every option I've come up with, isn't a good one. Doesn't make sense. And they all hurt.
Where are you God? Not just the surface distant stuff we've experienced. Where's the deeper part of you that I need in order to be content with things not making sense to me? Where's the stuff I'm suppose to be holding onto when my prayers are always answered with a no?

Where am I suppose to be in you? cause I can't find it.

Ok, I've said my peace....please let it be your turn now.

Stand still a minute

Today mom turned 60. Happy Birthday mom.
That's all.


In other news, I made someone mad at me yesterday. It's one of those moments where you haven't done anything wrong, but someone ended up hurt anyway, and now they're 'politely' not talking to me.
I'm sorry I hurt them. They're stressed and twisted up enough over some other situations in their life right now, I'd rather have not showed up on the radar.

I called the police tonight. Nothing happened, I wasn't even nervous - just doing my civic duty. Within 2 minutes I saw them shining their beams looking for people, and now they're still driving around. It's at least nice to know that, in the event of an actual emergency, they have a very fast response time. Note to wayward teens, don't come skulking around my neighborhood with bats after 10pm.

It's odd how you can start praying, and in the middle of your prayers things seem so important. And then you sit back down on your couch, or lay down to sleep, and you just can't help but think that nothing is important.

Question... if you knew marriage could be a wonderful thing, a happy, enduring, life-changingly magnificent thing ---- BUT, everyone around you was barely sustaining their marriage and in general they were all only marginally happy that they were married - would you still get married hoping for that life-changing wonderfulness?

My question actually has nothing to do with marriage. It's just an example. People who have tasted Gods presence can only try and give you an idea of just how wonderful, peaceful, joyful, and deep that presence is (and they only have 'tasted' not feasted in his presence)...but every where you look you just can't find that being lived out - would you really want to chase after that presence?

It seems impossible. The church in general just keeps on saying 'keep digging', but the entire church world in general seems to just keep digging and never finding anything. It makes everything seem so pointless. It makes you want to put the shovel down.

When my niece and nephew were smaller, whether it was teaching them to walk, or swim, I always tended to do the same thing. First you gear them up to get to you, then as they get closer you back away just a little bit so they go farther than they expected. In the end, you always catch them before they fall, or wear themselves out and go under water or something.. but ultimately, at the end of the day, they had reached you.

But in Christianity, it just feels like you're forever swimming, and He keeps backing away.

I am... I serve

Ok, I'm posting most of his post here... hope he doesn't mind.
This is a post from Steven Furtick.
Just in case he does mind.
The preachers name is Steven Furtick. His blog is here. His church is here. His wifes blog is here.
I hope that is enough advertisment for him to cover the fact that I'm posting his post here.

Once, in the middle of a life threatening storm, Paul spoke up with courage: “Last night an angel of the God whose I am and whom I serve stood beside me and said, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul.’”
Acts 27:23-24

I like the way Paul ordered that:
1. Whose I am
2. Whom I serve
Identity (whose I am) comes before activity (whom I serve).

I need to remember that when I’m heavy with inadequacy and uncertainty.
Who I am in Christ comes before what I do for Christ.
God the Father said He was well pleased with Jesus before Jesus ever performed a public miracle.
Identity supersedes activity every time. Remember that next time you feel like you don’t have what it takes to do what God has called you to do.
And let what you do flow from who you are.

92 yr old preacher.

So a co-worker sent me this story today...

While watching a little TV on Sunday instead of going to church, I watched a Church in Atlanta , Ga honoring one of its senior pastors who had been retired many years. He was 92 at that time and I wondered why the Church even bothered to ask the old gentleman to preach at that age.

After a warm welcome, introduction of this speaker, and as the applause quieted down he rose from his high back chair and walked slowly, with great effort and a sliding gate to the podium. Without a note or written paper of any kind he placed both hands on the pulpit to steady himself and then quietly and slowly he began to speak....

'When I was asked to come here today and talk to you, your pastor asked me to tell you what was the greatest lesson ever learned in my 50 odd years of preaching. I thought about it for a few days and boiled it down to just one thing that made the most difference in my life and sustained me through all my trials. The one thing that I could always rely on when tears and heart break and pain and fear and sorrow paralyzed me... the only thing that would comfort me was this verse.........

'Jesus loves me this I know,
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong,
We are weak but He is strong.....
Yes, Jesus loves me..
For the Bible tells me so.

When he finished, the church was quiet. You actually could hear his footsteps as he shuffled back to his chair. I don't believe I will ever forget it.

Hurts like hell.

I've never once in my life used this phrase until now. And I wonder if it's a bit closer to accurate than other peoples usage of it.
When people say something 'hurts like hell' it means it hurts a lot. They're feeling an extraordinary amount of pain and compared to the fires of hades, they're thinking "ok... this is what that pain is."
I don't like the term, because I always think hell would be a lot worse than breaking a rib (which most people tell you hurts a great deal).

But after feeling so absent from God, so empty and dry, and so utterly desolate - I wonder if this is more like (though certainly not equal to) what hell would feel like.
Despite all the horrors that hell will have to offer, I wonder if it's going to be the absence of God that we feel more than the presence of anything else, no matter how horrible.

If this is even a taste of what hell feels like, I'd still want to do whatever it took to get to Heaven even if all the physical horrors of hell were still there. Give me the never ending flames and weeping and gnashing of teeth, the whole bit. But don't take away the only thing that makes anything worth while - God.

I want to be in His presence, I want to feel it again, I want to know Him again and know that He's still there.
Eddie, my dog, wants to be where I am. Even when I'm too busy to pay attention to him. He just wants to be as close as he can get. It's not about him trying to show the cat that he's the favored pet - it's just about him, wanting to be near the owner.

Being absent from that, in my life, when for the past 5 years before this one were so continuously growing... may just hurt like hell.

Let me go.

I need God.

Two things happened this week that just made me give a second thought to.

First, I have a great dog. He's not so bright, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm.
Every day, he's pent up in his fence while I head off to work. And every day, he shows me yet another hole that he's discovered in order to get out of the fence.
He'll do anything necessary to get out and preferably back into the house.

Lesson two -

A cantaloupe, sitting on my kitchen counter. It's fresh, looked good, smelled good, apparently I wasn't the only one to think so either.
8 hrs later, I found ants trotting over to check it out.
I ended up spraying and wiping tons of stuff down as they slowly wandered over the counter to the cantaloupe.
8 hrs, one unopened cantaloupe, tons of ants.

And as I gave those things a second thought, I wondered (this will probably sound weird to even me when I come back and read this) but I wondered how different things might be if Christians were like that with the Spirit of God. If no fence, no chains could hold us back from getting into His presence.
If just the slightest scent made us drop everything, to crawl into unknown territory just to see if you could find the source of the smell.

It was a do anything attitude.
Anything, whatever it took, whatever hadn't been done before, desperate clawing at a hole just to make it wide enough to crawl through to reach the goal.

Yeah, ok. I don't have that. I'm doing good just to go to church. Beyond that, I'm a quivering mess.

I spoke, tonight at church in between songs about something along these lines, I spoke. I know better. I really do know better. But I did it anyway.
Grr.
It's like trying to write a blog post, only you only have one go at it, it needs to be short, ... oh... and you'll probably get too emotional to think straight. Impossible.

I wonder sometimes if the whole reason I'm at the church I'm at is just to teach the people patience.

I need God. I need to find that weird little spot where you just grab onto God and cling. But not just cling. I was watching a trapeze act today and I thought about how tight the people must grip that bar - and yet they swing and move their body to gain distance and speed. They didn't just grab on and ride. They hung on and flexed and leaned, and pushed until they were moving faster than when they first grabbed on.

I just haven't found my footing yet, and worse yet, I can't seem to shake this profound sadness.
I'm ready to trade it in.
Let me go.

A prayer answered.

I prayed this afternoon. For the first time, in quite awhile - my prayer was about something besides "woe is me".
I prayed for my church, I prayed that we could see lives changed, that we would come expecting something from God, looking and expecting to see God do something as opposed to sitting down and doing the same service we did last Sunday night, or the 1800000 Sunday nights before.
I prayed for a specific man in our church that just returned from having left. I earnestly prayed that he would see a breakthrough and that any enemy that might be around to remind him of his sins or hold him back, or shove his addictions back in his face would be banished. I prayed he'd see freedom, that he could somehow become what it is God has planned for him if he can ever find the freedom he's fighting for.

Then I went to church.

And the entire routine of the service was changed, as that one man stood up and said God was calling him to rededicate his life and he wanted to - right now.
The service never went back exactly into it's routine. I ended up playing the piano to our Pastor reading Psalms, throughout the entire service.

So, today, I can say my prayers were answered.

I can't do it.

Every now and then, someone stumbles across my site form a google search. So instead of coming straight into my main website, they start off at a specific post that google led them to.

This morning, someone googled some lines from a joke I included in this post so they went to my post "Oh, Lord I am nobody!".

I went and read the post, and found it ironic that of all times that post came up now.
The main gist of the whole post is how messed up and sinful I am, yet somehow God can use me, somehow God loves me.

I hate irony. It's too easy to discount.

A lot of different thoughts crossed my mind today. I went to see Wall-E today (two thumbs down) and despite really not enjoying the movie, at one point in the movie one of the characters yells "I don't want to survive, I want to live!"
I almost said Amen.

This is no place to be, no way to live. I just can't solidly say to myself God still wants me. Even though I blame Him for my inability to walk away - that He just won't let me go - somehow I just can't bring myself to say He's still waiting for me. And that He's still intent on working on me. And it's absolutely impossible to say that I'm worth working on, or able to change.

If anything - this whole mess just really has left me knowing that I can't change me. Some of my prayers are simply challenges now. "If you want me, and you want me better than this, You're going to have to do it God. Cause I just can't."

If God can't make something from my life, nothing good will come of my life - cause I simply can't do it. I've tried. I determined in myself so many times - and yet I'm still messed up.

So...

My confession

It's foolishness, I know,... seriously, I know. But tonight I was praying in tongues and a snippet of me was saying "so...does this mean I'm not totally blacklisted?"

So, despite the fact -or maybe because of the fact - that I've chased away my readership - I'm going to use this as my confessional.

Tonight I confessed all the stupid things that I think are holding me back from God.

I stepped back into a habit of misleading people. I know what to say, and how to say it, to get you to back away - whether it's the entire truth or not. I'm not lying about important things, just things that help me get through the day with fewer questions. But for me, the important part is that I've lied. Which fortunately or unfortunately depending on your perspective has given me a very guilty conscience about things. The unfortunate part to it is that I've completely walked away from some friendships because I'm afraid they don't believe me about things I have been truthful about.

I've been selfish. Every single child I've had in my home, I could have done more for. I was just too self-involved to really focus on them and drop myself enough to give them everything I had. At the same time, especially with Little One, I let my issues with her issues, get the best of me. 100%.

A song that was sung at Spanish church tonight put words to my next sin. I neglected God.
When Little One came along, I was so overwhelmed with issues and parenting that I began neglecting God. I didn't read as much, pray as much, my piano/prayer time was practically non-existent. And it still is. Until somewhere in there, I just quit trying. Life was too much to handle to make room for all the work that a relationship with God takes.

Then, and most strongest, is the shame. I feel deeply shamed every time I'm around certain people. I can't get past the idea that in their sin, I'm the reason they stumbled. And there's nothing I can do to change or fix it. Something special about me, just messes people up. Ain't it grand being unique?

I hope the Holy Spirit said something good tonight. I hope God listened, and answers the prayer. Whatever it was. I don't want to live like this. Something's gotta give.

Walk away

Oh for cryin' out loud!

How hard it is to just walk away? To just give up, shrug off all the things I just can't seem to 'get', and walk away? Every attempt I'm making just seems so pointless.
Every prayer,
Every song,
Every scripture I read,
Every church service.
Why can't I just stop? Why can't I just walk away?
I get that maybe God wants to teach me something - but what if I never make it? I can't give what I can't figure out. I hate being such a puny broke up mess.

It's a mess.

What is it that keeps me from walking away? I've absolutely given up on myself. I can't get it. The only thing I keep waiting on is that maybe, just maybe, God's going to pull His crazy magic string and the world will make sense again.

Fraud

If I'm going to be saved, if I'm going to be a Christian, I want to know it deep down in the fiber of my being. And I use to know it. Or I certainly thought I did. But now, it's a nasty mess of "If I am, tell me what it is that I'm not doing. How do I make this right?"
I don't want to doubt. Even when I feel alone, and broken, I want to know the foundation is still there.

Somewhere in all these questions, I... well, I may have only convinced myself that this is true, but it seems like if I could only know the foundation was there - I could hold on. I could easily proclaim that God is a healing God, and that if I pray, God might hear my prayer and answer. But without the foundation - I can only think that that might not be true.

Even with my worship, as we sang the song service Sunday I ended up leading the songs and couldn't help but apologize to God, I can't imagine He'd want my worship. RWK in their comment had it exactly right when they used the word "fraud". That's exactly what it is. And that word makes it far worse than trying to believe something, or do something you don't feel. Because the word fraud implies that you're misleading others.

I don't want to mislead anyone - so let me make it clear.
Don't follow me.

Communion

I'm afraid of communion.

I've abstained the last two times we've had it at church the last few months just because I'm afraid of taking it 'wrong'. I know the logical answers, I know the rebuttal to how foolish the very idea is. Yet I keep going back and seeing Jesus say not to drink unworthily - and I just can't bring myself to say I'm worthy.

Especially the last several months of this downward spiral.

Here's a pretty well kept secret - about three months back, purely by accident, I discovered a lump. After fidgeting around with it for a few weeks I finally went to a doctor. She discovered a lump as well and scheduled me for a mammogram.

In the nearly 2 weeks wait between going to the doctor, mammogram and then a sonogram, I just kept thinking about the last time I took communion. And I kept thinking that this was really how the cookie would crumble. This is really where my proof was going to be. I was going to end up absorbed with doctors and medicine for awhile just trying to get rid of something I pretty well gave myself. By taking something holy, and claiming it for myself.

It's a lot to think.


Ultimately, the sonogram results were immediate (and good). Yes, there's a lump, but it's nothing to be concerned about.


But seeing just how quickly I imagined God striking me left me even more uneasy. I want to know I'm saved. I may have said the right things to 'get saved', and done some of the right things to 'act saved', but God looks on the heart to show whether you really 'are saved'. And as I've said before - I think my hearts just plain messed up.

Coming back out.

I have never stopped writing. Only now instead of being relieved that the world in general isn't watching my crazy spiral into oblivion, I find myself frustrated at hiding it, and hitting save then closing the browser without publishing the post.

So I'm publishing again. I'm not going to publish everything I've written all month long, because some of it is just too dark - but I'm publishing what I think might be safe.

If I'm going to keep up this dark empty talk very long I'm going to have to find some place on this blog to say what I'm about to say:

The foundation is - God is good. Even when I can't find Him, even when I'm alone and broken and afraid. God's still good.

He hasn't lost me, even when I've lost Him.

And despite all the things I believe about myself, or my ability to hold a relationship with Christ - I believe that not searching for God is the worst mistake a person could possibly make.

Darkness

Just a clip from 97 Seconds with God.

I want to discuss how God spoke to Abram in the end of the chapter. Afterwhat appeared to have been some fairly casual conversations (if such a thing is possible with God) Abram is instructed to prepare a sacrifice. Then verse 12 and 13 say, "As the sun was setting, Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him. Then the LORD said to him …"

Did you ever notice how God appeared? I've written about it before. It was in the midst of a thick and dreadful darkness. The stage for their discussion was not the angelic yellow glow that most movies or stories associate with God. No chubby angels played harps. No sunlight blinded Abram. Instead, a thick and dreadful darkness came over him.

What's terrifying about that is that I think God still works that way sometimes. I might like to believe that when I find myself surrounded by what feels like eternal night and get lost in a dark patch of life, God is not speaking then. But this verse suggests otherwise. I might think I am alone in the pit. That the night is something I have to get through before God will speak. But in this chapter, thick, dreadful darkness was His medium. It was His vehicle to share His message.

You might be in dark times right now. You might be in dreadful times next month. I hope that even in the midst of the long night, you will pause and ask, if like Abram, this is God's way of speaking purpose into your life.

When empty pours.

Empty. Forget one last drop, forget the tiny little bit you're holding onto. Cause it's not there. It's empty. No more. Nothing. Nada.

empty.

And yes, I did mean to make it a small 'e' rather than capitalize it - it seemed fitting.

And yet today, I taught Sunday School, and it went well. I led a song service, and it did alright. I made it through yet another day and didn't dig a hole, crawl into it, and pray for the dirt to fall back on me.

It made me think of the widow woman whose little jug of oil was almost gone. She was going to feed her child and herself one last meal and then die. But along came Elijah, and next thing she knows, she's used the last of her oil, but for some reason, it's still pouring oil. And it didn't run out. Empty vessel, still pouring.

That's what I feel like.

Only it doesn't feel miraculous.

I get what RWK was saying to me in a comment on their blog. That maybe these times teach you something. Because I get it. I spend every waking moment telling God that I don't have any more left in me. I'm done, I'm gone, I'm dry. So dry it hurts. And then He dumps me out and pours oil for someone then sets me back down, still dry.

In church today, I was thinking about this after I had successfully completed a Sunday school class. And the song came to mind "Bring Your Vessels Not A Few". And I couldn't help but tell God that I'd rather be like that miracle of oil. Where one pot of oil didn't just keep pouring. But all the vessels that could be gathered were brought, and filled. Abundance.


Is this really the only way I could learn that without Him I'm nothing? Is this really the only way I could learn to solely depend on Him rather than myself? Is this really only way He can teach me all the other stupid painful things I'm thinking now? Really?

Someone on RWK's blog linked to an article about Mother Theresa. I read the article, and unfortunately connected with it entirely. But it nearly rips your heart out to imagine that she felt this way seemingly right up until she died. All those years. All those years? To feel like this? I don't know how she stood it.

More than anything, I just want to know that this has an end. That it won't hurt like this forever, that the emptiness will go away and He'll give me something, anything to replace it. I'm tired of being broken, empty, and hurting.
I want to know this is a tunnel and not a pit.

Verses and posts

So earlier this week I discovered this post "3 O'clock in the morning".

It really shed new light on what I'm not feeling. The idea that someone else is feeling as empty and as nothing as I am and yet they still think they're saved. They think this time is useful. They seem pretty sure that God hasn't given up on them.

So I wondered....

Then last night I posted on the secondary blog I administer on with Larry/OneSided. It's a blog that is slowly being written on line with a new chapter each month. There's not many contributors yet - maybe one day it will grow (maybe if I paid it a bit more attention).

But the chapter I posted on was "Chapter 10: Only One Drop Left".

Then as I was crawling into bed for the evening, suddenly "Revelation 3:8 & 18" came into my head. I laid in bed thinking it was totally worthless to get up - nothing good and inspirational, or hope carrying could come from Revelation. (Reading about a future home in Heaven isn't inspiring if you think you might not make it.)

Finally, with a sigh I got up and pulled out my bible. This is what I found.

I know thy works: behold, I have set before thee an open door,
and no man can shut it: for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept my word,
and hast not denied my name. Revelation 3:8

I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that
thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that
the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve,
that thou mayest see. Revelation 3:18

I went back to bed then, talking to God, asking questions, listening to the silence and mostly just wondering.

#3&4 leave.

Friday the 13, at 3:30am two little girls under the age of two were brought screaming to my home by CPS. Wednesday the 25th at 6:00pm two little girls under the age of two were taken screaming from my house. Darling (22mos) and Precious (6mos)

This is the 3rd 'let go' I've had to do, and by far the worst. The oldest knew something was different and got upset while we were still at daycare as we collected all of their things from the daycare. The screaming commenced from there, and could still be heard as the cps worker drove away nearly 30 minutes later. We did calm some on the drive home from daycare, but the cps worker picked Darling up once we got home and she just started screaming. Precious, saw her sister screaming and joined in.

It's just one of those things you remember, and wonder how long it would take to forget. The crying and reaching for me, snot running from her nose, damp tracks where you see the tears have traced down Darlings cheeks.

All that said, they are being returned to their biological family and, assuming everyone involved has made the right decisions - I'm sure Darlin' and Precious are much happier now. I hope they get over the trauma and fear of the last 12 days. May they never experience anything like this again, for the rest of their lives.

Jesus, here's two more kids to hold.

Messed up

It's June 23rd. 23 days since I walked away from my blog and said I quit.

I'm tired. Just plain tired. Exhausted. And I'm sad. Just so freaking sad.

I think my hearts messed up.

And I just keep figuring that I'm going to be one of those people that fills their life with good works, and church going, bible reading, and prayer, and yet still stand before the throne of God and have Him say - "Sorry, you might have done all this in my name, but I don't know you."


It doesn't make me feel better to know I'm doing good things. Because I'm not doing the good things well enough. I leave holes where I didn't do the good thing right, or with the right spirit.

I've got two foster kids now, 22mos and 6mos, and I was sitting in front of the oldests ones door. I sit here, every night until she falls asleep. Last night, about 10 minutes into this, she started crying and I just sat here at the door. Something inside me said I should just continue to let her know I was close by, but not go to her.

And I did. I sat here singing some quiet little song and finally she went back to sleep.

Despite what I'm doing, and if I feel it might be best in the long run, I imagine God sitting up there tsk'ing over me like some grandmother watching her baby be left crying.


That's the scary thing about foster parenting. Now I think that not only is God mad at me for how I'm doing MY life, but now He's probably ticked off at how I'm treating His precious babies too. I can't win.

I've sat here, in this dark hallway for several nights now just telling God that I wished He could love me too. Despite me being so wrong. And lately, I've heard a lot of strange messages where God says He loves "you". After visiting a church last night, I even turned around and staring straight at me on a wall was a big sign that said "Jesus loves you." But "you", is a very unspecific word that I can easily discount and say it doesn't apply to me.

But for all that, I keep thinking that the idea that this love applies to me is just wishful thinking now. My little world of oblivion is just a place God won't reach anymore. That reach, that love, it's for those people that aren't wrong, aren't all messed up, or at least it's for those people that are wrong in all the good "God loves you anyway" ways.


I think my hearts messed up.

Goodbye

It's been a fun ride.
I'm profoundly thankful for the release this blog has given me.
I haven't been walking for awhile now though, so it's time to stop.
Thanks for having read,


The End.