I wonder if I sat down in a room of people caught up in the torrent of their twenties and asked for lies to be outlawed what would happen.
I wonder if I asked the questions, nobody wanted to ask, themselves- who if any, would silently nod their head in agreement, or heed the need to let their voice be heard.
How many feel like you're flailing amidst passion and responsibility, fight or flight?
How many feel like you're the battle-scarred and bruised, with no sign of reprieve?
How many feel like you're the leftovers?
Am I the only one?
I stood before the mirror today and I let myself get lost in thought. I reckoned with truth and out came words that needed to be written, immediately. There was no saving this for later, because otherwise I'd be scared to death to own up to it.
My heart feels like it's leftovers, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.
These transitional twenties have left you barely breathing, you're weaker than when you were barely crawling.
In your heart, you look about you, friends are mothers and fathers, with sons and daughters. And yes, you'd be the first to admit you aren't ready for parenthood. But sometimes, you have to wonder. Wonder why your hands have to be left and deemed empty, why you can't seem to find someone to share your passion.
And then you think, all the more, and you're the friend that broke the silence, that danced in the rain, but you've become leftovers. The truest of friends have quietly whisked themselves onward and outward, and maybe you are partly to blame, but you are ALONE. They've gone, they come in and out, but it's not the same anymore, is it?
You are fond memories kept and stowed away in vintage cigar boxes, you are the notes that might rise up out of dusty drawers for one last look, you are the past, and all that you've become is leftovers.
And in my heart of hearts, I know this isn't true of me, or you.
But goodness, I'd be lying to tell you my throat didn't catch when the unacknowledged lie reared its ugly head. I'd by lying to tell you that I'm okay, alone. I'd by lying to tell you that I don't hurt sometimes, at how quickly friendships have faded, forever. But even still, I'm socially awkward, it's like I'm paralyzed, longing for friendships, but having forgotten what it means to befriend someone in person. I'm longing for it, but then I'm too tired to fight for it.
Is this any of you?
Maybe it's just me.
But I don't know, I feel like someone else might have needed to hear these words.
What it comes down to is, this, you aren't leftovers. You might have been left, sweet one.
But that means nothing in the grand scheme of things, NOTHING.
God hasn't walked away, child. He hasn't and He won't. I know that rejection hurts and leaves your heart stalling, too afraid to keep beating, but love, YOU. ARE. HIS.
He claimed you. He has you. Wherever you are. Whatever you are doing.
I'm begging you'll stand up with me tonight, let's be honest, it hurts, we're broken, but all is not lost.
Because praise Jesus, we are His redeemed first loves, overcome the lie, you aren't leftovers.