So . . . He took away my Playstation, my XBox, and every Nintendo game system ever made. He put me in time out. In the corner. In time out. Ok, so . . . maybe I didn’t have any game systems for Him to take, but it felt like it. He sorta took my fun away.
OK, so . . . maybe I was enjoying life a wee bit too much. I guess He wanted me to focus. Tighten up. Get a grip. Apparently He wanted me to stop partying. And socializing. I’m thinking He wanted me to act my age. Grow up. Get a grip. He took me out of the club scene and left me high and dry. He needed me to stop picking the wrong dudes, so He left me without companionship. He wanted me to follow my passion as a writer, so He left me minus a social life. He ensnared me on an island, inhabited by only two people. He stuck me in the desert, occupied by only two people. Me and Him.
He grounded me. He took my money and depleted my bank account. He left me with reliable, affordable transportation and safe shelter, but He left no extra shopping spree, pedicure, eating out, airfare, vacation money. I had just enough to have just enough. He gave me only what I needed, not what I wanted.
So, I whined and whined. I stamped my foot in protest, like a six-year-old spoiled brat. I pouted. I yelled at Him, “You’re ruining my life! You’re keeping me captive and not letting me live MY life!” He didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. He probably felt this was all for my benefit. For my well-being. For my future. Like He knows what’s best for me. Like He knows what I need in my life. Who does He think He is anyway? My father?
So . . . I fought back. I didn’t want to be party to His groundation. I didn’t want to hear it. I was over His isolation. His rules. But, try as I might, every plan I made, He cancelled it. Every luncheon, party, and social event I planned . . . every outlet I sought . . . He doused the flame. I was over it so . . . I snuck out to go to a club. An underground club. In a bad neighborhood no less. I was sure He wouldn’t know. Just one night. What would it hurt? Well, He knew. And why wouldn’t He? He knows all, doesn’t He? Coming home from that club one night, I almost got into a fatal car accident that would’ve sent me over the side rail, off of a bridge. His grace saved me that night.
So I surrendered. I gave up. I quit. I stopped fighting my gatekeeper and slowed my roll. I went with it. I accepted my social-less, club-free, dude-less lifestyle. I waved the white flag of defeat. I conceded. No more sneaking around. No more searching for the next event. No more disobedience. I basked in the desert and lounged on the island.
Funny thing though . . . while I sulked in the corner, I made plans. Since I was grounded, I got things done. Because I had no social engagements to attend, I elevated myself. And due to my severe, dude-less dry spell, I got to know . . . me. I figured out what I’ll tolerate, and what I won’t. I realized who I should let get close to me, and who I’ll keep at bay. I understood what I’m worth, and who’s not worth me. But the best part of my solitude? I got to know Him.
He grounded me because He IS my Father. He DOES know what’s best for me, even if I don’t want to hear it. He does want me to succeed and progress and elevate. But the only way He could do that was to get me all alone. Without any distractions. On my own little island. In the desert. Just me. And Him. How long I’ll have to stay here? I have no idea. But He’d better hurry up and release me. I feel a temper tantrum coming on.
