Being here

I watch these days go by as though I'm on the outside looking in. We go about our lives with little mention of you. And fill our lives with everything but you. How can we live as if you are not there? Prayers are short, rehearsed, trite. Like a ritual that has to be preformed for good measure. It makes me want to cry because I love you. Being here feels bad for me. I feel far away. You feel far away. I feel out of place and lost. My soul longs for something more. And I want to run... turn and run away. Run as far from here as I can. Run to you and never look back. But you brought me here, and your purposes are good. You make me want you more. You let me see the brokenness without you. You remind me where I was, and assure me of who I am. Whose I am. I'm better for being here, but I'm ready to come home.