The Worst Feeling

Getting in an argument with my dad, no matter how trifling the subject, is the worst feeling in the world for me.  I argue, I make him upset, and even though I'm frustrated as well, I feel more of guilt.  It's hard to explain this feeling.  It's this horrible feeling, first identified as annoyance, frustration, and it wells up in my chest, travels up my throat and into my head where I hold it like a concentrated mass of bad, bad feeling until it has no option but to be released in the form of drops of tears... where I realize that it wasn't frustration but sorrow and guilt.  And then something in me says, "How could you make him upset?  How could you add to his troubles at all?  How can you be so inconsiderate for someone who dedicates his life to you?  How can you receive so much undeserved favor and sacrifice only to offer so much trouble?  You don't thank him, obey him, or work for his happiness nearly enough."  And afterwards I feel an intense motivation to change, improve myself, apologize, do extra things, etc.

But... but... I don't feel this intense, personal feeling with God these days.  Why?  If only I felt this passionate toward Him instead of / in addition to my dad.  I know that parents were given children in order to understand God's love toward us, and vice versa.  But I don't feel it.  I'm dry, and I'm distant.  I have trouble seeing God hurt or upset like I see my dad.  I know that He sacrificed His one and only son, but since He is He, can He not have more sons if He wished?  What is sacrifice to Him, if He is the almighty?  Agh.  I want to escape and pray somewhere.  I had so much opportunity during the break..... the worst timing.

The Divine Image
by William Blake

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.