If I were part of the Swiss Family Robinson...

...I would always know exactly what to do. Need a rope ladder built? Fear not! I, with my astute geometrical skills, will calculate and ascertain the height to yonder branch so that I can construct a sturdy ladder out of local shrubbery. Uncertain about this local species of flora or fauna? No worries! My infinite knowledge will save the day again! (Even though I've never seen it before in my life.)

Ahh, I wish that I knew as much as those people. At least I know that I don't know. :)

I was glad to start going to group again. I missed the company of people who are struggling and fighting, just like me. Sometimes it seems that Christians never have any problems, especially on Sabbaths. Oh, of course, the external problems are there-- death in the family, health problems, etc. But internal? Struggles with your own sanity? Hardly. So it's good to see people who love Jesus, who are real about their problems. That's what I appreciate about the family I live with now. They're real, but they love God. It's pretty awesome. I still am trying to figure out where I fit in, which can be very tiring.

After starting this blog, it was like the sap started flowing again... like I'm coming to life, discovering who I am. What do I like? What are my opinions? There is no one here to see but me and God. I don't have to be fake, to act like this great spiritual person, to act like I know anything. Because really, I'm dissolving. Disintegrating. The person that I've trained myself to be for so long is drying up and peeling off, so much old paint that inhibits my breathing. And yet, in the process of just trying to be me, I find myself regressing...

H and I were discussing the subject of grace. I wonder where I learned all my conceptions of God? I have always envied "liberals", who really love God, and are not always watching their back to see if they've offended God somehow. I hate living like that. And yet, how can it be true that God is not shocked by my actions? If I were to go out and smoke a pack of cigarettes, would God really still be on my side? I've been told that God even loves my efforts, and every fiber of my being wants to believe that, cries out for a God to serve that would really be so gentle with me...

It's difficult to write out here in the open, with my family swirling around me. I cannot open the crevasses of my soul to the light. Bah.