It’s not what you might say that scares me, it’s that you might say nothing at all.
This statement has been rumbling around in my head for a few months. Quietly clever prose that I stored away ready to share when I had discovered some eloquent framework to hang it on. A punch line so to speak.
A punch in the guts to a God who at times seems so silent I feel as though I’m underwater, caught in a vacuous rip of forlorn hopelessness.
Because he’s not always the most chatty fellow.
And so, in the absence of chattiness from the all powerful creator of the universe, I take it upon myself to get in a huff with the Almighty and fill the deeply spiritual void at the core of my being with Netflix bingeing.
Take that Jesus.
Clearly my ploy worked because just as my legs were about to atrophy and my eyelids scraped past my eyeballs offering the last scintilla of moisture remaining in my emaciated but strangely bloated body my spirit woke from its content coma during the 5 second loading between episodes to a quiet whisper deep into my spite filled void.
“It’s not what you might say that scares me, it’s that you might say nothing at all.”
Counterblow. Touché God.
But, what if I stop and you are….. (shudder) silent? What if I stop and I don’t have anything to say? (ok, highly improbable)… What if I can’t hear you? What if I try to follow you, but can’t find you? What if I can’t make it?
What if you are not enough?
What if I don’t soar like an eagle?
What if you don’t call me out upon the waters?
What if you want me to find freedom, but freedom means letting go of things I’d rather cling to?
What if I don’t like the clarity you give me?
What if my lists of what ifs is so long I never shut up for long enough to find out?
Like it says in the Bec paraphrased version
“Be still, log out, let go of your incessant what ifs you exhausting woman, and know that I am God”
OK. Right after the last episode…