God and I are fighting. Rather, I am throwing a temper tantrum and God is the target. When I am fighting with God I am forgetting all that I receive in a daily basis. I am not practicing gratitude. I still am ticked, and tired and scared, and I know that my Higher Power is the only one I can yell at, curse, and still be loved unconditionally. So yesterday I screamed, I ranted, I raved and God loved and loved and loved, and told me quietly to get my resume in order. This morning I moaned and groaned and wallowed. And God told me gently to write. So my well isn't working, my heat isn't working and my pantry is almost empty and I moan and cry and pray. And God is there, taking the blows until I calm down, breathe and acknowledge what I have, amazing gifts, friends, family, laughter, and joy. Because when it really comes down to it, I am not actually fighting with God, I am fighting with myself. I am the one that made the choices that inevitably brought me to the present situation. And I am also close to accomplishing two major goals, graduating from college and obtaining a divorce. When I come close to making life easier for myself I seem to end up creating a wee bit of chaos, just to shake things up a bit. Because as much as I am afraid of failing, of falling on my face and losing what I have and of not making it, I am petrified of succeeding. I am like a boxer in the ring, waiting to be knocked out so I don't have to have my hand raised high with a referee shouting "winner." That pesky little fear is at it again, this time it snuck in the backdoor when I was feeling connected to Spirit. So just for today I am going to put the gloves down, because when I am fighting it, God cannot help me. Today no one wins, but today I surrender.
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