Abba.

Abba, I abandon myself into Your hands.

It's crazy how one whisper of "Abba" can bring me so vigorously to my knees. That one simpe word has more power over me than anything. It reminds me of everything that God is to me. He is my Father. He is my Healer. He is my friend. He is my comfortor. He is the most intimate thing in my life, my Abba.

Though calloused and reckless, He sees through it. He sees through my fake exterior of wanting to please people or putting on a show. He knows the cry of my heart saying,

Daddy I'm scared...petrified beyond belief. Help me. 

No matter how courageous my facaud may seem, through the jokes, and through the rambling-there is fear. My joy cannot be eradicated, but my fear is still wild. 

Abba, I pray for strength during the hard places. I pray to keep my mind on you, even when it's dark outside. I pray that I never forget Your son. That I never forget the sacrifice that You made for me. No matter how much I belittle it by thinking I cannot be forgiven, help me to remember that Your sacrifice was big enough; that Your love was strong enough.

And Daddy? I'm so sorry...

Overflow.

One phone call and I know that I need to be there.
With an overload of homework, and a hefty heart, I tread my way to Stillwater.

I spill coffee on my skirt and we laugh in the place where we should be quiet, but it doesn't matter much. We pick up another friend who needs us and we all eat, Japanese style, in this sketchy restaraunt, and we steal the pin and laugh our way to the car.

The friend who needed me dropped me off so she could go to class, and my other friend and I drive around a lake for hours and hours. We talked about the boy who hurt her and the one that hurt me. We laughed that I turned on my blinker with not a car in sight and we talked about God. Deeply and surely we did.

Overflow was an overflow of emotions and I met people that I felt like I already knew. My other friend who has a heart made from gold has me jump in her car and we literally talk for hours, not caring that I would get back at 3am, like I did. Grabbing hold and praying hard, I leave my friend with drooping eyes, but a heart of joy.

God uses me to love others, and loves others enough so that they have leftover love for me. Because I wonder how I am loved, but then I remember the cross. And as repetitive as John 3:16 is, it is never untrue and never seizingly amazing, really.