Christmas Eve

I'll admit I've hit a wall. I've "discovered" something which alternately makes me weep with frustration and seethe with anger. I've felt immobile and mute for nearly a month now.

Today was extremely busy. I traded phone calls with visits, shopping, and very late Christmas mailings. In one of the many conversations, someone told me I made him feel joy when we talk. I don't know if that's unique to him, but there are few things I would like more than to bring joy to the people I love--and even to perfect strangers.

I don't know how to resolve the current "problem" that haunts me. I don't know how to stop feeling bitter, even hateful. But it's nice to know that in the midst of hurting over this, I'm still able to bring joy to the life of at least one friend.

Darrin held me last night as I chatted well past one o'clock a.m. I keep wondering when he'll say he's had enough--that I'm too much trouble with all my baggage and emotional crap and stupid past experiences. He doesn't say it, though. He just holds me and tells me he loves me.

The truth is that I'm very angry at God right now. I'm not sure why I've chosen that target, but I think it has something to do with the fact that he allows me to tell him how angry I am, but he doesn't go away. When I rage and cry, I feel his love piercing through me, letting me know it's okay for me to feel these things--that probably I should have felt them long ago when I was too young to understand why people who should have shown me love, protection, and respect, were hurting me repeatedly.

I wonder how long this will last.

Tonight, though, I realized that I celebrate Christmas each year because it brings me hope. I hope my Savior will love me when I feel unworthy of love. I hope he will guide me when I can no longer see my own path. I hope he will teach me to care for my brothers and sisters. And in the end, when I have done all that I can to resolve my hurts and transgressions, I hope he will heal me and make me whole.

Perhaps I am naive to place my hope in a person I cannot see or touch. Perhaps I am superstitious to believe in a miraculous conception and birth. Perhaps I am foolish to base my life decisions around that which I believe he would have me do.

But I've tried to walk alone. It's miserable. I much prefer the company of the one who loves me unconditionally. And tonight, I'm very happy to celebrate hope.