Dancing in the Storm, Singing in the Desert

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and He will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if He does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." - Daniel 3:16-18

To borrow the words of Flyleaf, "sometimes life seems to quiet into paralyzing silence." There seems no answer to our pleas, no relief to the pain that has found its way into our existence. The tears seem to come more often than the smiles, and we repeat the word "why" as a soft mantra, even while we ignore the answer. It is in the midst of our pain that fronts fade, pretenses pass and masks melt. The truth of ourselves has nowhere left to hide as we reveal all our insecurities and deepest fears, we demonstrate where our strength may in fact come from.

Perhaps the reason we reject these moments the most is because of the stripping down process. In a world where we are raised to cover up everything from flaws of the skin to those of personality, so many of us are afraid of baring our soul to the world, let alone to ourselves. It is in these moments, that the most growth can happen though. We clear out the clutter in the room, piece by piece, decoration by decoration, until we can see the cracks in the walls and the stains on the carpet. It becomes evident what repair work needs to be done. Then the task falls on our shoulders to begin that work.

We can fear the storms in our life for the destructive power that they hold. However, they can only destroy those things which are not prepared for it - the flimsy shack, the unenforced windows, the toys left outside. We can also respect the storm for showing us what didn't really matter, what areas of our life need to be reinforced.

We can fear the trek in the desert for the loss it requires. We fear the things left behind, the things we think we need and the comfort we were used to. The beautiful thing about the desert is in fact the barren nature of it, in how beautiful it is despite its seeming lack. Silence is something we take for granted these days, because it is only when we are still and quiet that we are left alone with only ourselves and God. Perhaps some of us fear that one-on-one time.

I have lost. I have cast my pearls to swine. I have carried unnecessary burdens. I have stood fast in my faith despite the world telling me to do otherwise. I have cried. I have mourned. I have sat in the darkness of my heart and wondered where the light was to be found. I have looked in the mirror for a glimpse of the woman I know myself to be. And through the few years that God has given me to experience on this earth, I have come to understand that no matter what I go through and what the outcome is, God is still the Provider, the Healer, the Shepherd, the One Who sees me.

He has never given me a reason to believe that I am not in the palm of His hand, even when my plans are dashed and there is not a cent to my name. Either I trust Him or I don't.

I'm learning to be that little girl, willing to play out in the rain because I know my Father is nearby. I'm learning to be that little girl, singing happily with nothing but the clothes on my back because my Father is singing there with me. I'm learning to trust Him with a little more each day and to return to that carefree child when it comes to the nastiness of life. To know that no matter what happens or how it all turns out, that my Father's arms will always be there, and that truth will always remain.

No More Hunting

Her howl has ceased to rebound through the night sky, and the nighttime creatures no not whether to be more cautious or at ease. Little do they know, they are the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. Nose to the ground, her tail flicks up now and then to keep from getting too dirty. She was sulking, and she knew it, but the mood had taken her, and she refused to be shaken from it. Her wanderings finally took her to the lake, and she sat herself in front of it.

The moon was a mere sliver in the sky, but the light was enough to maintain its form on the shifting waters before her. She sat, glaring at the lake as her mind wandered elsewhere. Whatever paths may have existed were of no use now. The scent was gone. She'd lost their tracks.

Rage had been her initial reaction, but that had quickly shifted into some odd mixture of abandonment and self-fury. How could they? Why did it all matter? She'd needed them... She didn't need anyone. The emotions had run their course until all that was left was exhaustion. So, laying down, she glanced up at the moon once more, wondering where they lay beneath it tonight. Lingering emotions all drifted away, seemingly being absorbed into the damp earth like water. All but the most basic of attachments, for even now, she still wished to run with them once more. But for the sake of her own sanity, she could not allow herself to chase after those who'd left her behind anymore.

Silvered Existence

What is it like to be Silver?

I reflect. I glisten. When I am untarnished, I may offer you a glimpse of who you are. I am a natural occurrence, no pretense or artifice. When attention is paid to me, I shine, even sing. And every time I go through the fire and come out, I become more pure, less tainted, closer to perfection.

I am beauty, claimed as much for my appearance as I am for my abilities. I am patience, able to be molded and shaped over time and labor. I am a vessel, meant to carry power and warmth.

But if I could sum up the essence of what it is to be Silver in one word, that one word would be this...

Love.

The closer I get to perfection, the more I will be Love. So for those of you who bother to take a moment of your day to read this or any of my posts, I thank you for your love and know that you walk in mine. And to those of you who know me as Silver, know that I will always be Silver to you, no matter when we last went on a mount quest together or last ran God's Trial. This moniker of mine has come to mean more to me than you shall ever know.

*77

You always sounded sad, even when you laughed. But even in its sorrow, I found it beautiful. It was the loveliness of fall leaves, the bittersweet sound of strength and loneliness. What touched my heart more than its beauty, however, was the fact that you believed that your loss was forever.

Silly little flower. All things must die to make room for the new. The seed must be destroyed in order to become more than what it is. An apple seed, so small and frail, produces a tree which produces more apples which produce more seeds.

I truly wish I could hear a pure laugh from you. I would love to see an untainted smile light up your face. If only you would shift your sight and embrace the possibilities of life instead of looking at what the past holds. Time once lost, loves grown cold, wasted potential and abandoned dreams. None of it matters, I promise you. Each time you open your eyes, I want you to focus on what you do have, not what you lack. I want you to chase after those things that are still alive - your hopes and dreams that are before you.

Live, sweet soul. I always pray that the next time I hear your voice, I can finally hear its complete and true beauty. There are moments I think I sampled it, when it spoke of the things you cherish and love. Hold on to that passion, press through to your spring, and live. If not for your own sake, then at least for mine.

God Who Sees Me

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me."

-Genesis 16:13

[Y]our Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

-Matthew 6:4, 6,18

Wouldn't it be amazing to see the way that God sees? Perhaps I should rephrase that a bit. Isn't it amazing when we are walking so close to God that we see what He sees, our lines of sight so closely linked that not even a word need be said? But the true treasure....those moments I've come to look for eagerly...are when He lets you glimpse at the why. When He leans in and whispers, sharing His vision of your own destiny, you may as well be reborn all over again for the way that it energizes your spirit and clears your senses.

I've wondered at my seeming stasis over the past few months. I've managed to accomplish a lot of nothing, filling up my time with gaming, sleeping, anime and manga. All the while, I knew greater tasks were waiting for me, but even with my dreamer's mind, it was hard for me to connect with the visions that had been given to me for safe keeping. I have always been good at procrastinating, and if I am perfectly honest with myself, I do treat my spiritual life as I do my worldly affairs, often ignoring the fact that they are all a reflection of my relationship with my Father.

I have a new understanding of just how deep and broad God's sight is, despite that time of seeming nothingness. Seeds were still being planted; growth of all sorts was still taking place. That is why there is always weeding to be done and harvests to look for in the garden of our souls. Even in those moments when it seems like there is not a thing moving, we tend to overlook that the essence of life...all life...is change, and all living things are always changing, be they relationships or our own minds and souls.

Taking a moment to glance back over the past few months, I see what work I have done, uprooting some plants while sowing other seeds. It was a subtle work, and I only came to realize it was done when I looked at the results. But God saw my labor, He saw that I needed this time alone with just me and my precious little garden. It has been a time of healing and a time of rest that I was not aware I really needed. When God allows silence to creep into our lives, it would be wise to make the most of it. Even He rested on the Sabbath.

I thought that my husband joining the Marines was for him and our future family. I see now that it was for me as well, in so many ways. God saw what I needed and when I would need it even as He dotes on the me of right now. He is the God who sees me...all of me...and moves heaven and earth to help me see me too.

Mourning Sickness

A moment of silence for those things which have passed. Before us lays the flesh which must.... must be buried and returned to that which it came. For it has had its time. It had its season to flourish as it would. But now it must die so that others may live. For as long as this earth remains, there will always be seedtime and harvest. But in the midst of that cycle of sowing and reaping lies the passing on of what once was. Lives must be laid down so that others may rise up. Truly, parting is sweet sorrow.

These things we nurtured, cherished and poured ourselves into, for better or for worse. We have watched them grow to produce whatever fruit they would in our lives. Oh, how sweet that nectar that flowed from each bite. How filling the flesh that found its home between our lips. But what thing born of the flesh can last? This tattered world, broken and bruised, trying so hard to struggle for survival despite its destined demise. Even knowing that... we sample. We taste. We reveal in it, at times. Oh, the tree I have growing in my backyard may be distasteful to you, but don't look at me as though you have not planted seeds of your own, which you water both day and night.

So here I stand, looking at the bare branches, the wilted leaves, the soil that has been sucked dry in an effort to feed those roots. I wonder what it was all for. The harvest was good, oh too good for anyone's good, and I ask myself if I should make an effort to resurrect this dead thing growing in my garden. It would be no small feat for me to do so since I was the one that brought it to life in the first place. I know it like I know myself, and I know just which branches to prune and which spots to water to give it life again.

But for what? Oh, maturity has kicked in far too well to fool myself like that anymore. I cannot be the little girl sneaking candy from her father's jar when I think he's not looking. I know I'm better than that, even as my tastebuds cry out for another sweet flavor or sip from a fountain that was not meant for me. I know... I know...

So I will mourn you, even as I rejoice from the transition from death to life. For while my knowledge helps, it does not change the fact that I loved you far more than I should have. So as death settles into these roots, at least I will allow myself to feel the pain keenly. I won't run from it or act like it isn't there. The least I can do is properly witness the death and the burial of something I invested so much into.

To those things once cherished that now must be laid to rest. Sorrow lasts through this night, and mourning will eventually pass into morning. Every night must end at some point...

A Recovering Pretty Girl

This post has been a long time coming, and I have been waiting for a time when I was mentally able to discuss this topic from as objective a standpoint as I can. However, it can be hard to be objective when talking about something as personal as self image.

My beauty has fluctuated over the years, having its highs and its lows. Or rather, my perception of it has. I believe that we all have moments when we don't feel quite as attractive as we know we are capable, but I am talking of that foundation, that core image upon which everything else is built. What we perceive as the norm of our appearance is how we primarily see ourselves.

I never thought of my looks as flawless, but I never doubted my beauty growing up. Even after that unfortunate incident involving my forehead making rather close friends with a screw at the top of a slide, I saw the resulting scar as a gem to the crown rather than tarnish. I remember when my baby teeth fell out and my adult ones started to grow in, proving too large for my small mouth, they resulted in my canines hanging out in my gums rather than coming down completely. I was teased a handful of times, if that, but mostly by soon-to-be close friends and people that didn't much matter. Even the boys in my life confirmed the beauty I held, folded up notes in awkward handwriting speaking of rosewood skin and beautiful smiles. My bout with acne couldn't even shake the confidence I had in my looks. I have never claimed to be the most beautiful, but I knew of the beauty I held and stood firm in that fact.

But recently I've been reminded of the one moment in my life where I have allowed myself to feel less than pretty. Allegedly one too many pounds and a closet full of clothes that no longer fit as they should made me look in the mirror with a question rather than confidence. A few words from the wrong people were the nail in the coffin and I found myself in. Looking back on it, to steal a movie reference, I was The Bride being buried alive, trying not to struggle at the fact that my life seemed suddenly out of my control. Now, I don't mean a literal sense by any means. Obviously I could've done any and everything to shed the offensive pounds. But that was not the point for me at that moment. At that moment, pounds or no pounds, I felt unpretty.

My eye became overly critical. The flaws I cared less about became prominent and plentiful. The proud vixen turned into a poor vagabond, and I really wasn't sure how to get myself out of this situation. I have never been one to even think of struggling with self-esteem issues, and while I realize that my experience is a beach day compared to someone dealing with clinical diagnoses, it was for me a moment of something just short of despair and desperation.

Looking back, I honestly don't know what I could have or would have done different. I'm not sure if anything I said or did in reaction to those events would have made my unpretty stage shorter or have erased the chapter altogether. Because for a person to go from feeling self-satisfied and lovely on an average day, being less than that was like crippling me. At times like this, I can't help but wonder who really has it worse: those who had and lost, or those who never had.

Today, I looked in the mirror and noticed how flat my stomach is getting. And I hate myself for caring. How could I let other people take that away from me. Now, it would be one thing if I had to watch my weight for medical reasons or something that matters in the grand scheme of things. My actions were prompted by sheer vanity to live up to not my standard of beauty, but someone else's. And I'm tired of living with such a useless and unnecessary burden.

It's time for me to reclaim who I am...who I truly am. I know I'm not the only one out there who needs to do so. I pray that this blog reaches the hearts and minds of the people who need it most. I pray that this blog serves as a warning to everyone not to abuse the place you have in a person's heart, speaking death when you are supposed to speak life. And for those of you who are going through an unpretty chapter right now, speak life to yourself everyday. You are beautiful, truly beautiful. You are a masterpiece of God, and even if you have a little tarnish here and there, that does not take away from who you truly are or how precious a gem you are. Remember, beloved, that no one can take anything away from your essence unless you give it up willingly. Your joy, your optimism, your purity, your innocence, your laughter...and most of all, your beauty.

Be blessed and a blessing