Never did she expect to wander off the path. How could she? She was hand in hand with the One she loved the most. She skipped along childlike, unafraid, abrasively confident to the point of cockiness. When He said, "Go here" she went. When He said, "Give that woman $5 and tell her I love her." She obeyed with nervous joy. Whenever the dark clouds of depression and self-condemnation stormed above her, she ran into His awaiting arms: sometimes immediately, sometimes with a hesitation. She had been disappointed by others many times before. Their words, actions and inaction had left her abandoned, broken and frightened. More often than not, she felt the safest thing to do was hide: pretend everything was okay. Any time she had opened up to anyone besides her sisters or brother, she was not believed. Any time she tried to reach out to someone for rescue, it was denied her.
She began to come out of her shell when her youth minister reached out and dared to invade her world. At first, she was angry. Her wounds ran so deep and so pervasive she did not even recognize scars from flesh. Through his persistence and love, she finally started to open up. To heal: just not as deeply as she thought. Constantly, she heard His whispers, His calling to her. She was willing to leave all she had previously known behind. And she did. More hurt, misunderstandings and lies made her falter on the path. She was no longer skipping, now she was stumbling over some loose pebbles. The path did not seem so sure. Eyes faltering from His eyes, her grip on His hand slipped: He did not force her to hold on. She was not certain she trusted Him enough to cling to Him so tightly.
Desperately trying to back track, to find her previous sure footing, believing she had been misled: she moved back home. Surely He would not have led her to pain: further pain after all she had been through as a child. It felt like betrayal. There was no denying the distance. Another misstep: hoping her footing was sure once more. Her eyes locked on the precipice: the drop roared up at her. She seemed to wake from a daze to realize she was standing on the edge. Gravity pulled her: the crumbling edge evaporated beneath floundering feet.
Relieved, gasping in distress, she felt her fingers close over a jutting rock: she had not fallen completely. Arms closed around her. A strange man caught hold of her. His arms felt safe for a time, until he hurt her: he dropped her. Straight from his arms, she fell into another stranger's. Searching for something closely resembling the arms of safety she once knew. The cloud of depression hung low and dark. Rains of despair drenched every inch of her body, she had never been so cold. Thunders of anger echoed her cries. Trembling fingers gripping the edge of the jagged rock: her nails were split, bleeding. Searing pain racked her body. The rain weighed her down. She began to believe it would be best if she just let go. She wanted death. She welcomed it. In her waking hours she dreamed of it. She believed that was the only way to be close to Him once more. That was what she wanted more than anything. She longed for heaven: to leave this world of pain and anguish. She could trust no one. The men who caught her abused, raped, scarred, and abandoned her. After every encounter, she would long for death while fighting to regain a grip on the rock burrowing further into her fingertips. She missed the path: she longed for the path. More rains descended, more thundering rage: her tears were lost in the downpour.
Then the moment came, her ears tuned out the storm; a gentle whisper was calling to her. His voice. Not laced with anger or reproach as she had expected. She would have understood more if that were the case. The One she had once loved most continued calling out to her, asking her to let go, to come to Him. Arms throbbing and trembling, she glanced through them to see His face, full of love: strong arms beckoned. He stood below her in the cleft of the rock. Had He been standing there all along?
"Let go! Come to me." He coaxed."Even though your mother and father abandoned you, I never will." Turning away, eyes clouded by tears recognized the blood pooling down the cold, jagged stone as her own, coming from her fingertips. Could she really trust Him? Her grip slipped. She knew that if she fell, she would be lost.
Her heart was a mess of conflicting emotions. She wanted to be lost. She wanted to be abandoned: It was familiar. Yet she wanted to be safe and found in Him. She did not understand love. All she knew was what it was like to be left: forgotten. Yet, she longed to be remembered, cherished. For Him to hold her close and assure her all would be well.
Her eyes met His once more. He held out a tiny flame to her. She remembered His promise and whispered, "I would have given up all hope, if I had not believed I would see Your goodness in the land of the living." The flame sparked something deep inside. So, it started: hope rekindled. With a sharp breath, eyes closed, chest burning, she pushed herself from the edge. Her heart stopped until her eyes opened and she understood, He had been holding her all along.
No comments:
Post a Comment