as the rain stops.

After a long day... I realize that I'm a lot like my goldfish.

He swims around in circles all day. Going about his necessary functions. Breathing. Opening and closing his gills. And sometimes stopping all movement completely. He skims his mouth along the top of the water, making bubbly noises as he tries to take in more air off the surface of the bowl. He tries to swim out of his glass container, but never gets there. Because all he can see is a murky reflection of himself in the way.

And sometimes I try to think that he remembers the day I saved him. That I shed blood for him when I picked him up out of the glass on the ground when his bowl broke. I cried for his life, for his loss- my baby fish, as I struggled to recessitate him. To give him new life.

Yet, even after choosing him, raising him, sustaining his life, grieving for him, saving him, and providing him a fresh bowl in which to live again, he does not show any signs of change. Looking at him, you wouldn't be able to see any signs of me (besides the fact that he is alive because I choose to feed him and care for him). Does he live his life any differently? No, he continues to swim in circles, unable to see past his own reflection.

God, don't let me be like my fish.
I want so much more than this foggy water.
Fill me up so that I'm overflowing with your living water.
So that my soul will not be satisfied with anything less than the air outside of this bowl in which I live.
God, thank you for being the hands to hold me while You breathe into me the breath of life.
And thank you for shedding your blood and flesh to give me a chance to live outside of my own.
I want more of you.
Heal and restore my soul.
Lover, I long for you.