COLORS COLLISION

junkyard-photosLast night, I crashed.

All the colors of healing to collide with past. The present to rush upon the past, a battle of great proportions on the realm unseen.

I imagine if we could see into this world it would be breathtaking. How my guardian angel does battle for me, with me. Tall and mighty of stature, surrounded by the glow of God’s command as He stands guard. His sword to reflect all, a prism of what is at stake. Looking into its depth shows me the rainbow of life, a life lived for God. The colors of joy and peace, hope unto change.

Yet, last night, I fell. I stumbled at the reflection when showed to me. That mighty sword hefted high felt more like it was falling on me. The color drained in the cleaving it brought. For, you see, it was a needed one. The sword of God, His Word, His people, His angels, all being used to further separate, past from present.

I so often live present based on past, mostly unawares. I dislike this, I want to be awake, i want to know. How can I change what I don’t see? I can’t. Thus I beseeched the throne of Grace for my eyes to be opened, the color to collide that I grow.

My collision was this. I have been feeling so overwhelmed with responsibility of late. There is truth to a need being there for less, a sharing of the load to happen. However, it has been my excuse card of late. In the past, how overwhelming my life was… there was no escaping the abuse, the demand to parent when but a child. The weight I carried of shielding my younger sibling.

This isn’t true now.

Now I can be honest, I have those who see and care, will help if I but tell them where I am.

This was my downfall, I didn’t. Instead I tried to be super Tammy, she who does all. I failed to prioritize, cut corners to get more done.

I the source of my collision, left a wreck within and without.

I feel as though I could gladly sit in the “dump” totalled.

It is oh so tempting.

I desire to be stashed away, mope as the tears turn the color to rust, not care about the elements of life and healing.

Thing is, I won’t, I can’t, for my God won’t allow me to.

Even in my weariness I thank Him for this. In my inability to stand He will raise me up, as I feel overwhelmed I shall give my days to Him.

I will acknowledge the facts of my past that are impacting me now, Thanksgiving its own horror unto itself then.

I will not, however, become them. I claim the power of the Holy Spirit within, I thank my Guardian for being here, I claim the blood of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior the power of the mere speaking of such to send Satan fleeing.

Yes, Satan.

For that is what this is about, spiritual warfare. Do not kid yourselves, Satan will use every piece of scrap metal left from your war of abuse, if allowed.

So, instead, I am off to the Great Mechanic. The welding of His Word, pivots of truth… the soldering of the Spirit and the cleansing of the blood of Christ, I am getting a complete overhaul.

Classic Style, one of a kind model…

Tammy 1964.

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