He is there

Even in your weakest moments God shines through. Some how, some way He pushes through to your heart so that you may listen to His words. So that you may trust Him.
I have found that I have a really hard time running to God or trusting Him with things that I believe I can fix on my own. I never had a dad to run to. So how do I know how to do it? That is my thought anyway.
For some time I thought that I was really reaching out to God but I have come to realize that maybe I haven't been. Maybe I have actually been the one pulling away. He is reaching but I am being a child and running from Him. Knowing full well that He still will find me. That I can't run. I can't hide. But I can choose not to reach back. I can choose to be stubborn. That is really getting me far!!
I am so tired of running. Tired of my digging to hide. "The walls I've built are falling; and Your waves of Grace are washing over me."
I know in my heart that it is time to let those waves wash over me. Time to let the grace engulf me and pull me closer to Him. Yet I still believe the lies. I let myself think that they are true. When will I ever grow up? I would cry out for Him yet I find myself thinking that He is tired of me and that I do not deserve to have it all stop. I deserve the torment, the nightmares and the hate. When will I believe Him?
Lately small things keep arising to remind me that He is paying attention. That even though I may not be ready for healing or experiencing what He has in store it is ok. He has different plans. He keeps gently pulling and pushing. Keeping me to go through the doors. Yet I plant my feet firmly against the door frame and put my arms against the wall. Not going any further! You can only hold it that way for so long. I get a moment of being tired of fighting and He uses that to remind me not to fight. He uses that split second to come to me and try to tell me that it is ok. Yet I replant my feet and decide to fight. How terrible of me. I am slapping Him in the face and it hurts. Yet I still fight. Thinking that I can't handle it. Am I really that wrong?