Drop the bags, walk home. No longer will we ever be alone.

Last night I dreamed about some stuff that Dan had just moved out of the Mitchell house (in real life) being moved back in. It was really inconvenient, obviously. My interpretation upon waking was wondering if I've been letting the junk that I have kicked out of me come back in - quickly.
It really just comes down to choice. I need to choose this day whom I will serve. Do I serve Yhwh? The God who brought me forth from captivity? The one who found me abandoned on the side of the road in a pool of my own blood and took me home, scraped the crap off me and called me beautiful? Or do I follow the god I've carved myself. The one made of driftwood etched with the names "misery, isolation, despair, rejection, suicide". The one who has no mouth to speak to me, nor ears to hear my cries, nor eyes to see my turmoil. Only names to brand me with.

As for me and my house, we will serve YHWH.

May the Lord bless the sanctifying work He is doing in me.
I am not who I once was.
I am resurrected.

peace and fullness in Christ,
caitlyn.