Feelings, nothing more than feelings
Trying to forget my feelings of love
Teardrops rolling down on my face
Trying to forget my feelings of love
I wish I've never met you, girl
You'll never come again
Feeling, woo-o-o feeling
Woo-o-o, feel you again in my arms
Feelings, feelings like I've never lost you
And feelings like I'll never have you again in my heart
Feelings, for all my life I'll feel it
I wish I've never met you, girl; you'll never come again
Feelings, feelings like I've never lost you
And feelings like I'll never have you again in my life
Feelings, woo-o-o feeling it,
woo-o-o, feeling again in my arms
Feelings
****
Woo-o-o...... Feelings..... That oldie-but-goodie sung by Morris Albert. I'm fighting feelings. Not only fighting to feel, but also fighting feelings versus truth. The feelings often win.
I feel my mind retreat over certain things. Literally feeling the thoughts sinking to the back of my head. I feel the feelings themselves looking for somewhere to hide in my brain so that the hurt doesn't hurt. Somehow trying to fool itself that it doesn't have to feel these things. When the feelings go to my heart that's when I know I'm not stuffing. Not even my heart I guess, but to my gut. When my stomach curls and the tears flow that's when I know I have allowed myself to feel.
I walked by the computer desk the other day and saw Rob typing. Rarely does he ever venture near the computer so I was curious. He had typed in Trent's name. And many sights popped up. Many sights with obituaries. My son's obituary. News again and again of Trent's death.
Today we bought an antique trunk. More feelings. More fighting back. No more stuffing. Gut wrenching and tears flowing. An antique trunk to pack away Trent's belongings. The sweet couple tried to return our money when we told them why we were buying their beautiful trunk. More precious souls to share the gospel with. I often wonder about why God puts certain people in our paths to share His word with. About the interesting ways that He uses for us to meet.
Someday soon I will take a day and sort all of Trent's worldly treasures from the top of his bed and pack them away. I will feel the hurt. I will miss him intensely. I will trust God. I will remember how long eternity will be. I will see again that none of this stuff goes with us. I will remind myself that God knows what He's doing.
I try to imagine how it was before the accident. I try to imagine if it will ever be that way again. That safe feeling. That content feeling. That feeling that dreams really could come true. That feeling that it would matter if dreams did come true.
The concept of feeling deeply is scary. How far will this go? Are feelings a bottomless pit? What if you never quit falling? But feelings go both ways. The height of joy inclines as quickly as the depths of despair decline. I feel God. I feel His closeness. I feel His leading. I long for Him. Is this journey not worth it for that? For the prying of my fingers from this world. For His mercy to be felt. For the complete trust in His sovereignty. It is worth it to know a bit of the depth of God. To both extremes.
I think of heaven. I think of the difference there if I had never gone through this here. If I had never known God this way during this short time. Would I have fought? Would I have ever been woken up? Would I have ever been granted so much repentance of age-old sins? Or would I have just continued to be content in my own apathy?
One day I will come to the end of this journey. Over and over again I consider eternity. I consider the day of my death. I wonder, "Is it today?" How I long to be found faithful. To have trusted. To have drawn closer. To have felt it all. To have given all. To have held out the Word of God above all. To have led the way. To have never given up.
My thoughts continue to reflect on the importance of transparency. I wonder if I share too much. I wonder if I share enough. I think of God's transparency through Scripture. I ponder how He has laid out Himself through Words. I understand that. I understand the fear of revealing only to be trampled. I read in Hebrews the other day about how wicked it is for a man to trample the Son of God underfoot (10:29). I shudder at the thought. I can relate in a tiny sense as I think of those who trample what God has done with our son. I fear for them. I fight my own bitterness. I long for it to be different. I imagine that it is only my perception in their reactions. I trust God all over again.