session after session to work through it all until she handed me a book of blank pages and asked me to draw.
and i sat in my room, later that week, crayons scattered all around me.
pinks and greens and blues and yellows fanned out before my fingers,
but the one i chose was black,
because that is what i remembered.
the room where i huddled, the year i turned 5.
where i learned that fear equals shame and voices dripping with honey don't always offer something sweet.
i had cut all my hair off, my 19th year, because isn't the glory of a woman the locks that grow long?
so i cut it shorter, because it was all gone and there was nothing left for me to do.
and i married the one who loved me regardless of the years that were stolen and the ones i had wasted.
and i cut my hair even shorter, though he liked it long,
because i was determined to make him see that he had married someone unworthy.
the years have moved on, some slower...
and my hair has grown.
and it falls over tiny faces lifted up who call for me.
who weave their tiny fingers through it, the sleepier they become.
it wraps itself around the face of the man facing me,
as the wind whips and i come closer for warmth.
it has become for me, a symbol of healing.
fear of men came in through a dark, small room and the little girl who emerged carried that fear wherever she went and offered it to whomever she met.
His Words of promise ring deep inside and the truth of His Truth seeps into every broken and stained place.
when He comes so very near and the Light of His presence produces awe and joy and...fear.
but oh, it's not the fear of shame.
that fear i'm done with.
the fear of God is good and healthy...and something more:
the fear of the Lord is clean,
enduring forever... psalm 19:9a
He cleans deeper.
as my awe grows,
He empties out the pain and the baggage.
oh, the imprints remain...
i think they always will this side of heaven.
heavy boxes always tend to leave a mark.
but as it lengthens,
His glory shines brighter...
and the dark and frightful places
become hallowed spaces.
942. the one who noticed i was new and took me under her wing as we studied the bible together.
943. listening to old truths and learning new things.
944. that bright, hot sun that burned my face at 8 o'clock at night.
945. a picnic potluck
946. a friend who made muffins too.
947. and brought them in the sweetest tartan picnic tin.
948. impromptu changes.
949. shady places.
950. the reminder that kids are rambunctious
951. quiet mornings at home.
952. neighbour knocks.
953. sprinklers turned on and heat-crazed kids.
954. planting flowers
955. a wound shared.
956. deciding to go.
957. staying up way to late.
958. 4am wake up call.
959. starbucks stopping.
963. the gift pressed in my hand.
964. the 3 hours elias screamed on the way home.
965. sleeping, without interruption for 7 hours straight.
966. words seeping with pain.
967. words soothing with life.
968. turning around to see heads bent together and an arm pressing close and 2 hearts praying to the Father of both.
969. kendal: my new christy.
970. date night.
971. a busted radiator.
972. making it home.
973. an envelope in the mailbox...more than enough.
974. knowing that He sees and He delights to show mercy.