Bear With Me

Heavy.

A heavy heart.

Becomes weighted down by the impossibilities of life.

Sure.

Possibilities are or can be endless.

But the soul behind the mask has been telling the story for far too long.

And.

I am tired.

Beyond weary.

Resigned. To the fact I do not “play” well with others.

Bear with me.

Please.

While I seek to figure out the why of whys.

Under assault for too long with queries, stories, excuses, options, veritable reasons of lack of this or lack of that. Buddying up, buddying out disguised as “support”.

The Heart of the mystery. (pf)

A heart that has broken in two.

Asks desperately to change the ways, the means and the whys.

When it feels pain that may never be heard.

Never be heard.

Running amok like a nutcase running amok in case someone, anyone will stop and listen, really listen. They are found out only when and for the weary, weary, hurt they hold deep within. Their heart.

Impossible to gasp anymore for a breath.

A breath of hope. to breathe the air of hope.(pf)

Hope has becomes lost in the lies, images and excuses of the lies, images and excuses.

Sharing becomes a who did it first contest of who does it first to inflict a pain of never ending consequences.

Passion about what is real or right tossed out the window.

The gas pedal pressed in an effort to be heard and a ultimately rammed right into a tree.

Case closed.

Door shut.

Forgivenes for me, but not for thee.

Coping takes its toll.

A heavy, heavy toll it takes.

Until someone, anyone will listen, really listen.

To the hurt.

It really is not a competition. The Hurt Olympics. The Drama Olympics. The Liars Olympics.

However you wish or choose to turn it on or turn it off. Engage the button of destruction. Or not engage.

The fence sitter. The stonewaller Same difference.Same results and all lost in the quest of who wanted what. Where, when and why. And the worst part of all,

How.

They may have finagled their “quest”, their execution, their “outcome”

What does is really matter when a heart is broken in two?

Patience is a virtue.

In breaks in two.

Bear with me, Lord,

While I figure out.

The whys of whys..

The who’s of who’s.

Why the heart is a mystery that stirs deep in the soul and then weeps with sadness at the face standing before them.

Speechless.

With nothing more to say.

Nothing more to excuse.

Nothing more to finagle.

Nothing more to lie about.

Nothing more than the dirt off our cleats.

History tells us, persons have tried. Nicodemus was one such individual of his quest to see what made Jesus “tick”. He dug down deep for the dirt on Jesus.

Enough dirt on Jesus to condemn him as a blasphemer and do away with him.

Hey Jesus. I get it. I understand. When a heart breaks in two. A heart breaks in two. Jesus was asked leading questions by Nicodemus, a prober of deeper thinking. Once Jesus opened his mouth he seized the conversation.

Seized the conversation.

Nicodemus used flattery.

Nicodemus used niceties.

Nicodemus probed with false interest.

Nicodemus engaged with selfish intentions.

To find or create the dirt on Jesus.

We all have improvement deep within ourselves. We all have messages to send. We are messengers of God—good and bad messages. Some may refer to the process of renewal and betterment as a rebirth, a born again. That is one way to look at it provided the heart is allowed to come along for the ride.

Being born again is only born out of legitimacy. Jesus knew. He just knew he could not entrust himself, his life to Nicodemus. You see. Nicodemus did not know the meaning of the true meaning. Of being born again. Re born. he kept his hand on the pummel button rather tight. However, Jesus prevailed over Nicodemus because Nicodemus, well,

He became stumped.

Failed to walk the walk.

Chose instead to talk too much talk.

Perhaps.

He lost his spirit.

Nicodemus lost his spirit.

Forgot even that Jesus’s spirit is poured into our hearts.(pf)

Our beautiful hearts.

And not poured carelessly into a glass, cup, Solo cup, or flask.

One can ponder, one can guess why Nicodemus chose the offensive on a being such as Jesus.

Jesus has very much street cred.

Very much street cred.

He was a man on a quest to find the truth, passionate about the mystery of God. The heart of the mystery (pf)

The Spirit. The Heart.

The singular.

The distant.

The majestic.

Mystery.

Jesus never looked back.

Jesus never played games.

Jesus never wavered.

He loved His Father way, way, way too much.

To Jesus, his Father was the icon. Not only an image. A reality. Deeply held within his heart.

Good and honorable.

Always worth the paper printed on, or not be printed on.

Makes no difference.

It is and also can be the,

Same difference.

What may be left in the trash is the broken heart of those that got it but did not get it. Did not “play well with others”. Could not compromise a belief system built on shakey truths and even shakier lies.

These diabolical actions have a way of changing us forever.

Forever.

With a heart split in two.

Hope gone.

Hope lost.

Suffocated.

Bruised.

Body and Soul.

Dreams shattered.

Bear With Me.

Jesus spirit shines down a light of closeness, compassion and tenderness. Sometimes it is just too difficult, We think.

Coping takes it toll.

A very high toll.

Especially when the bumps in the road are relentlessly gaping with zero hope of being filled up.

Bear With Me.

Take my blood.

Work me to the bone until dripping off by brow,

Cause me to weep a river of tears

At your expense.

At my expense.

Was it worth it to you?

Would you do anything different?

Bang your head against the wall.

Bang your hand upon the table.

All in an attempt to be heard?

Bear With Me.

When a heart aches.

A heart aches.

Jesus said, “It is when a person walks at night that they stumble, for they have no light.”

Betrayal.

Breaks the heart.

When Judas left to betray Jesus to local authorities, John replied simply, “It was night.” Ironically He, Nicodemus came to Jesus at night.

Light versus darkness.

Coincidence or Unfavorable Conquest.

Too difficult to snag or snare?….resulting in a desperate path taken to inflict pain?

Your call.

The heart is a mysterious singular, distant, majestic mystery.

When broken beyond repair, the only path forward is to ask a person who can handle the truth to please,

Bear With Me.

Bear with my pain, bear with my sorrow, bear witness to my heart that has been broken.