I feel my legs running.
But now I don't flee, I'm just free.
I hear my voice shouting.
But not out of fear, just so you can hear
my new song and see my new dance.
It is the song of a child:
laughter, joy, and peace.
It is the dance of a girl:
twirling, running, and release.
Somewhere in the ocean
or along the waves of the sea;
This is where you can find my new motion,
Where you can see me finally just be ME.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Meetings with my Savior
"Let Go"
I’ve been down roads no one should have to go.
I’ve made in others tears like a river flow.
Great has been my shame
And only I have been to blame.
Recognize.
Realize.
Apologize.
Then
Exercise the power of letting go.
I’ve learned which paths lead to tears.
I’ve built bridges over those rives to mend the years.
Birthed out of shame has been humility,
And a reason to yearn for accountability.
With every darkness comes a new light.
With every loss comes a new reason to continue the fight.
When in myself the depths of my depravity I see,
Only then can I begin to be set free.
I’ve been down roads no one should have to go.
I’ve made in others tears like a river flow.
Great has been my shame
And only I have been to blame.
Recognize.
Realize.
Apologize.
Then
Exercise the power of letting go.
I’ve learned which paths lead to tears.
I’ve built bridges over those rives to mend the years.
Birthed out of shame has been humility,
And a reason to yearn for accountability.
With every darkness comes a new light.
With every loss comes a new reason to continue the fight.
When in myself the depths of my depravity I see,
Only then can I begin to be set free.
Restoration
"Coming Home"
There was a soft glow coming from under the shallow crack between the end of the big oak door and the beginning of the blue tile floor. It had been a while since she ventured to the other side of that door. Not much remained to entice her, with the exception of a few tired pictures and one or two old pairs of shoes, still left next to the dresser by the closet. She just never felt the urge to open that door anymore. I suppose it would be better said that she was too ashamed to open that door again. Not after where she had been…
And now here she was, in a long-suppressed place thinking back on all the twists and turns she had taken in her path. But the door that stood before her like the ominous presence of an angry lover assured her that she hadn’t imagined it all. Taking one wary step forward, then another, and finally another until she stood squarely in the face of this solid oak division, she placed a firm hand on the doorknob and turned it cautiously. The creaking noise sent a violent chill down her spine; she released the knob immediately. It wasn’t the right time; she needed to do so much before she would be prepared to enter the room. And for what reason was she interested in forging back into that room anyway? Was it not simply a dark, cold room filled with musty air and the muffled cries of a shrieking heart? Somewhere within her, the light was speaking to her and whispering that things could be different. Dark rooms could become light and cold rooms become warm. But not on their own. So, who then, she wondered, was working in the other room?
After a few days the light seemed only to be growing stronger. Without hesitation she opened the door and confidently walked into the transformed room that still stood as an irrefutable symbol of moments past. She took in the scene around her, dizzy with both joy and pain. Everything seemed restored and refurbished; even the windows were clear and clean. But there was one element that caught her eye more than any of the others. There, in the middle of the room seemingly staring her in the face, was the stake in her heart. It looked more beautiful than she had ever remembered, with blue and gold sheets replacing the old ones. Light tears streamed down her face as she dropped humbly to her knees. In the weakness of her awe all she managed to mutter was “restore me”.
There was a soft glow coming from under the shallow crack between the end of the big oak door and the beginning of the blue tile floor. It had been a while since she ventured to the other side of that door. Not much remained to entice her, with the exception of a few tired pictures and one or two old pairs of shoes, still left next to the dresser by the closet. She just never felt the urge to open that door anymore. I suppose it would be better said that she was too ashamed to open that door again. Not after where she had been…
And now here she was, in a long-suppressed place thinking back on all the twists and turns she had taken in her path. But the door that stood before her like the ominous presence of an angry lover assured her that she hadn’t imagined it all. Taking one wary step forward, then another, and finally another until she stood squarely in the face of this solid oak division, she placed a firm hand on the doorknob and turned it cautiously. The creaking noise sent a violent chill down her spine; she released the knob immediately. It wasn’t the right time; she needed to do so much before she would be prepared to enter the room. And for what reason was she interested in forging back into that room anyway? Was it not simply a dark, cold room filled with musty air and the muffled cries of a shrieking heart? Somewhere within her, the light was speaking to her and whispering that things could be different. Dark rooms could become light and cold rooms become warm. But not on their own. So, who then, she wondered, was working in the other room?
After a few days the light seemed only to be growing stronger. Without hesitation she opened the door and confidently walked into the transformed room that still stood as an irrefutable symbol of moments past. She took in the scene around her, dizzy with both joy and pain. Everything seemed restored and refurbished; even the windows were clear and clean. But there was one element that caught her eye more than any of the others. There, in the middle of the room seemingly staring her in the face, was the stake in her heart. It looked more beautiful than she had ever remembered, with blue and gold sheets replacing the old ones. Light tears streamed down her face as she dropped humbly to her knees. In the weakness of her awe all she managed to mutter was “restore me”.
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