late at night

It's late and Cristi and the children are asleep, just me and my thoughts are up and trying to understand how God has wired me.  Naturally I live to be creative what I mean is my imagination has always been at work, which causes my hands to try and bring a physical representation of those thoughts into a  form or medium that can be seen rather than just talked about.  But with all honesty I don't feel very creative right now, nor do I have any ambition to work my hands into any medium that would produce an artist physical representation of my thoughts.  So I sit typing which maybe in some sense is physical but not to the same magnitude that I would consider, but it is all that I have so i press on, I have always wanted to blog.  But with all honesty it would take me a week to write a 6-7 page paper, with much preparation and conversations to have the ability to process the information out side of myself so that i could write or type those conversations.  Yet I am writing from my heart now with no one to process with, not that I couldn't call someone or be in some form of prayer.  I don't know where I ma going with all of this, this, these wounded hands trying to be something, picking up pieces of emotion, searching for meaning, feeling sometimes alone even without God, or maybe not alone he's just at a distance watching, and that kinda weird.  I know God is with me that he will never leave me, I just hate the distance thing that we sometimes or either all the time feel.  I am a prisoner of gravity,  my life is not spent  flying high above the clouds,  a fellow mud kid feeling the over arching theme of from the dust you were made and so to the dust you will return.  My days are limited to those which have been calculated for me on my behalf, and currently I still am not overly concerned about it ending  as I was those days in the hospital.  And even then my life was speared yet again like a cat with 9 lives but mine has surely been many more than that, and yet again I live and I rejoice at the fact that I am alive; but not enough to rejoice in my creativity practices of doing art so i am restricted by the gravity.  This I must break to be set free from and worship the God who's created me, redeemed me and also has forged me through fire to create again something new, or at least refined a bit more by the scars left to tell the tale.  Jesus has scars!  Even though he has a new Body, he has scars still,  Thomas saw them and touched them; here see put your hand in.  Jesus you are bizarre  to me a puzzle that I cannot pretend to understand.  What do I do with all of this crap and goodness around me?  Provision and yet withholding, security and pain with suffering, encouragement and words that leave me hopeless, all this and more I lay out there only you know the truth and some how I trust you.  May every one who trusts in the Lord have their prayers answered.  shalom