My brain and my heart are always fighting. Each of them think they can control the other. It’s always a battle. No joke. I’m so serious. And it drives me crazy. My heart and I know when something is right or wrong and when something is going on. We just know it. But my brain . . . that chick likes to shoot down my heart’s theories and disprove her all the time. So annoying.
OK for instance, I see something that looks, talks, and acts like a duck. My heart and I know what we see and what we feel so we make up our minds that it is clearly and without a doubt, a duck. Then my brain puts its two cents in. She argues that if I would just look at the so called duck sideways and upside down, you know . . . change my view to give it another chance, it might not be a duck after all. Instead it might still be everything I ever wanted it to be. So my brain tries to dispel the duck theory and finds all sorts of ways to rationalize what my heart and I are seeing and feeling. She gets into my soul, messes with my heart, and makes me confused. That’s when I get tired.
It’s exhausting fighting with myself over things that are so blatantly obvious. I go back and forth in my mind trying to rationalize what’s going on and what I’m seeing. My heart and I know what’s up but my daggone brain wants to debate facts. It’s almost as if blackout curtains obscure my vision so I can’t see jack. When I’m in it, I can’t see, hear, think . . . hell all of my senses become dim and useless.
There’s no way I’m looking straight at the duck yet my mind is telling me, “Nah. That’s flamingo. A sun conure. A beautiful peacock.” So I wait. I listen to my brain and I wait for that feezing duck to change into a beautiful white dove. While I’m waiting, times a wastin. But I don’t give up. This duck and I are meant to be. It’s gonna turn into a dove any minute now, I just know it. Years pass and the duck is getting uglier. My heart and I know it and we’re watching it change right in front of our eyes. But guess what? My daggone mind won’t let up. She keeps arguing and telling us that as that duck grows up it’ll mature.
Oh yeah, something sure matured alright. I matured into a beautiful swan when I let the real white dove come into my life. His name is Jesus.
