Shadows or Mirages

We either chase the dim outline of something that exists or we pursue that which looks more colorful, captivating and enticing, but leaves us with hands grasping, fingers brushing-- on air.

Shadows or mirages.

I have run after the bright things that shimmer, waver, and glisten like the image of an oasis in the desert, I have chased them down and I have felt my heart drop and shatter as I grasped handfuls of empty air.

And I have chased the dark outline of beauty unseen. I have run my hands across it seams, and hear the rustling of truth and beauty that the wind whispers to trees.

Blind to the reality that lies behind the dark veil, I have pushed through the shadows towards light; for even shadows grow clearer as you draw closer to the blaze.  I have trace my fingers along the borders, marveling how the lines become sharper and more defined the closer we get to the light.

I exist for the moments when I stumble into the shadow of Beauty.

Shadows denote something real, solid and I will chase them until my heart no longer beats inside my chest.

Weary

Soul pounded, pummeled.
Shattered, splintered.
Beaten and crushed.

Heart crooked, twisted, and cracked.
Flung in the ditch.
Bleeding and stained.

Face filthy.
Eyes briny, bleary.
Tossed away, discarded.
Broken, weary.

Old fears haunt.
Cruel voices taunt.
"Grace a lie, Love a myth.”

Blood, tears, and sweat
Fists slippery, wet.
Clutching shards of dreams
Pounding on heaven.
Shrieks, screams

“Why,” stings your lips.
Trust fractured
Hope dashed
Faith slips

Dragon sneers a grin
“See, never enough.”
“Give up. I win!"

No! Struggle. Fight!
Stumble, trip over truth.
Run! Flee, back to light.

Courage Child!
Beauty born from ash
Love free and wild.

Every black thread
Woven into a story
Where evil is ripped into shreds

All the old stories are true!
Evil will lose, death will not win
For everything broken is being made new.

Shadow will be swallowed by bright.
For there is a Creator
Who loves, saves, redeems and delights.

So dance, sing, laugh, and spin
The story does not end
Here...it begins.

Life

Life is a crooked, bending road.
Each year we're here feels like a heavy load.
We often wonder if we will survive
When our soul aches from sharp pain like knives.

Grown up scales run and cloak our tired eyes.
Hiding glory written on blue skies.
And voices fill our hearts and minds.
Full of fear that steals and binds.

We long so badly to be free.
Once again to be a child
To laugh and play along the sea.
To believe in a grace that is never tame and always wild.

Rebellion

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” 

― Albert Camus

Aching

They are promising me Spring in the morning, but right now it's cold, wet, and after a rough day at work - the whole world feels soggy.

So to combat the dismal dismay I find I am going to write and post pictures, which I will delete in the morning when I wake up to sunshine and feel silly.
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I am aching for a little house in a small town in Minnesota with memories tucked away on every shelf and echoes of laughter in every corner, laundry in the backyard waving in the wind, blue jays in the grass, and where I can hear my grandpa argue the rules of Cribbage and my grandma say, "Uff ta! Daggnabit!"

I am aching for the hours spent running in the woods and hunting for kittens. And for days and nights full of games and conversations with cousins tumbled on couches and across the floor. I miss them awfully bad.

I'm aching for green and trees, bike rides to parks, and getting lost in the blocks between the small house and library.

I'm aching for wide open plains where the earth stretches out to brush the edges of a blue sky with billowing clouds that sweep low and reach up high.

I'm aching to chase a midwestern sunrise, to catch the gleams and laugh for the sheer wonder and beauty of of it all.

And mostly I'm just grateful for the ache, because to ache for something means that at one point you held it, even for just a moment -- you held it.

Grateful

Think of the people in the world that you love the very most and remember--a world where you never meet will never exist.

At some point your paths crossed, your stories tangled together, and your life was changed.

Run your finger along the thin threads of story that brought you to that moment, see the twisted lines, trace the crooked choices, feel the knots and be grateful that we are not alone in this story.

Basic.?

(I try not to rant often, but sometimes I'm just so flabbergasted that I just have to, so please excuse me.)

I've never run with the "popular" girls. I'm not that kind of gorgeous and I didn't and don't care enough about my clothes, hair and make up. Plus I have never been terrified enough of bugs and snakes to ever make it in those circles. I don't have what it takes, nor do I care to try and obtain it.

I don't have a models figure, I never will, and I'm alright with that. I want to be healthy but sorry, I'm not going to starve myself just to fit into a size two. I want to look nice sure, but I'm not going to lose two hours of sleep to do my make up. I refuse to carry around a purse that's worth more than the money I carry it in, I like shopping in the clearance aisles, and I would rather shop for books than clothes. I am who I am, eat it.

It's like you have the cheerleader group and then you have Ming, with her glasses and stacks of books, sitting in the corner thinking to much, laughing, and eating cinnamon rolls.

Honestly, I forget people like that exist. I am so completely surrounded by the most incredibly kind and thoughtful people, that I forget that such mean, shallow, petty people actually exist in real life.

I was sharply reminded about this tonight. I sat listening to story after story of women my age who apparently never got the memo that there is more to life than what you see in the mirror, who sit and critic the world, and who believe the worst thing you can call someone is "basic" (side note: I didn't even know what that meant and had to ask for an explanation). I kind of sat in shock as I listened, just staring, not being able to comprehend that girls my age could really be that shallow and be such catty b's.

I'm sorry but I'd rather look "basic" and be interesting, fun, opinionated, idealistic and kind, than look like Helen of Troy and be mean spirited, catty, empty-headed, and self-obsessed.

There's more to beauty than good bone structure and the skin on our faces.

Goodness gracious. Alright now I feel better, I'm done.