Now I just want to blow it.
I was really angry when they cut me off and I started pressing down on my steering wheel trying hard to illicit a response that portrayed my frustration to the other person. No luck. A couple days later I was just writing on my steering wheel and BEEP! Ever since then, I just want to honk my horn and let people know how I’m feeling.
Transfer that eight months into years, and that’s where I am with my faith. For too long people cut me off and try as I might I couldn’t let them know how I thought, how I felt. Now I can’t stop.
It was like being trapped in car screaming at the top of my lungs and nobody knows the difference. That church was a bubble and I was trapped inside it screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one could tell. It was suffocating me and more than me, my faith. When you die, everything dies with you. I was dying there and my faith was dying with me and no one could hear me slipping away.
Now I have air enough to breathe, air enough to nurture my faith and a voice that everyone can hear.