I've looked over an "old" journal page. I smiled at the note I once cried on. It is awesome to look back and gather together all of the hardest moments of a life and realize that they have been the most valuable. Moments that confronted my mediocrity, my immaturity and my selfishness and made me a "man" (it is an expression in Romanian - when you are maturing and growing on the inside...). Or half of a "man", because I am still undone...
Today, I live the ending of this note!
June 12th 2008
"I stand and wait for something to happen"... I would rather run, as the woman with the issue of blood, with the humiliation of my uncleanness, trough the crowd of people and touch Christ... I would love You to hear my cry as you heard the cry of the centurion... If I could only touch the stirring of the water...
Sometimes I ask myself why are You silent? I keep asking myself why are You hiding?
I listen to the world, I turn my head after it and I do know its unhappiness... But who said there is happiness in Christ?! Someone said it... I can't remember... I better throw, one by one, the scales of humiliation as I throw an old garment. But others grow on me and I find myself kneeling with pain. My face crumples, it is flashed by fear and I tell You: Please, Lord, I can't handle watching this... Why are You asking me to take that road, that Calvary road that only Christ could bear? Why are You asking me to see what I can't watch without the option of closing my eyes? Why are You asking me to keep them open and dry when pain is too big to fit in my soul? Why are You asking for that small piece of dignity I have left? Cuz if You'd not take it, no one could see it anyways... Why don't You let me run, like Jonah, and why are You forcing me to follow by this storm...? I wish I could wander, like him, at least one day, being able to dream that You can't see me...
I asked you once to smash me till the end. I've put myself, quite, on the cross, with the grief of the crucifixion hanging on my chest. You've listened to me then. Did Christ feel the same? Where are the drops of blood?
English Translation HERE
Sunt o iubitoare a cuvintelor; le vad in varful degetelor mele, incerc de multe ori sa le ating, insa imi dau seama ca ele sunt menite sa atinga.