There’s something in my heart. Can’t quite tell what it is.

It’s a prick and a throb. You know how some pains are superficial and if you just ignore them, they go away?

Then there are other pains. The ones that are actually trying to tell you something about yourself. Something is off kilter and needs to be fixed. And no matter how much you try, it won’t be ignored or brushed off as “no big deal.” Sometimes, they even get worse. If ignored for too long, though, the pain turns into numbness. The kind where blood flow is cut of and this thing happens called ischemia and necrosis. Tissue death. That’s bad.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which. Is it just an “off” day? Am I just tired? Or is this something that actually needs to be addressed?

There’s something in my heart, and it needs to come out of my heart to my head and be formed into words– taken from a feeling and turned into something that my concrete mind can handle. I can’t handle obscure emotions.

But somehow it won’t be shaped or formed into something rational, and I just want to cry instead. Letting the tears spill into emptiness without giving them to Someone does nothing for me. I feel just as lonely, the pain hurts just as much.

I’ve had this problem all my life. It’s very difficult for me to articulate my feelings. When I was younger, it was frustrating for my parents, because they didn’t know how to help me if I couldn’t tell them what was wrong.

I still can’t tell you what’s wrong. Just that it doesn’t feel right. Doctors (and nurses) don’t like it when patients say that. We want to know what the problem is so we can fix it.

I think that sometimes God puts this weird feeling there and won’t let me quite put my finger on it. And He doesn’t let crying make the feelings go away. And He doesn’t quit poking at the sore spot just because I want to ignore it.

But if I ignore it long enough and don’t run to my Physician, it eventually gets numb. And the life source is cut off. And something dies.

And that’s bad.

When I don’t know what’s going on in my heart, He does. When I can’t tell you what’s wrong, He’ll put His finger on the exact spot it hurts.

Not to be mean. Not to hurt me more. But to identify the problem. And heal.

There’s something in my heart, and He knows what it is. He put it there and didn’t tell me what it is so I would run to Him.

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