Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

Archive for the category “Faith”

Awe.

As life hurtles past me like bullet trains heading to an unmarked terminus, I simply lay myself down in Your presence.

Sometimes that is all I can muster. Sometimes all I can allow myself is to bathe in Your atmosphere and hear Your voice. Because, for so longg it felt like I was blindly shouting across barren hills, and for so long I felt crippled by others who love You; crippled by those within Your church. For so long I traded You in for a concept than a reality. For so long You were merely a distant relative; a former acquaintance etched into former days but absent from the present.

And though questions pervade my head like an unyielding whirlwind, I humbly stand before You, and look towards You. You are so much bigger and brighter than my bleeding heart and racing mind. You have equipped me with a lion-heart which is so densely controversial, and I kneel before You and have hope that it is for a reason: that You will use it for Your good. I submit: a submission not of cowardice and weakness but of knowing that at the end of the day You are beautiful, and You are constant and You are bigger than any tears or laughter or head-scratching.

Though the path before me seems so overgrown with doubt and difficult questions and a constant uphill battle, I trust that there is fighting for a reason. I trust that there is a method in this madness. Although there will be times that I will not be able to lay here with You like I am now, I know that You will still be somewhere out there, somewhere close, even when I call in the bleakness and the valley. Even when all goes silent and my heart is fatigued and my mind crippled: You will still be there.

So as I rest in viscosity of true joy, You remind me that it all worth it. You remind me that the difficult parts are the best bits and the easiest things in life are a bland taste in the face of Your glory. You always give just enough to cope with. Though some may be given more torment and discomfort and trial than others, I thank You for the challenge. I thank You that You allow me to keep going.

I thank You that You are so constant and firm and that I can always come back here and know that it is worth it; that You, beyond every possible measure, are worth it.

 

(image sourced via flickr)

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Dusk.

As we watched the sun sink her head into dreamy depths, we turned our heads east and headed straight for the grey clouds outlining the border. And though sadness filled our hearts, it did not eclipse them; for the very light we beheld and carried within us radiated enough hope to keep us burning. And with that, our beams burned brighter than the sun’s could ever muster. It was the week filled with tear stained clutches; it was the week filled with serendipitous joy. It was a week stained with both metaphorical and metaphysical thunderstorms and sun-rays. It was a week torn with heartbreaking questions and unyielding faith in equal measures. It was dream and reality all the same.

And as the dust rolled us down the highway, we gave the purple hills their final bow and praised them for their constant vigilance. And then we kept our eyes forward.  We sang songs and shouted and prayed, for we had hope. We had strength and trust and promise, even as the misty curtain parted to make way for us.

This was one of those rare golden moments which filled our lungs and kissed our eyes and laced our lips. Who could ever stop us? Not the becoming darkness, nor any demon, nor any deepest depth.

All was well.

 

The conqueror.

“I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.”

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

I wouldn’t.

I would wait for the day that the sun shines its iridescence
into the shadows of your face
And beckons you in with all its glory

I would wait for the day where the raindrops
are the rivers that stain your face
And that pain is a long forgotten handshake
of a former acquaintance

I would wait for the day when the last goodbyes
are the ones that are scheduled
And that the first hellos
come with their own warranties

And I would dream that you do not once more
rest your head in a blanket of sorrows
or stand in a crowd with no name
or miss another turning
or feel another scorch of heart break.

But I simply could not. Nor would I.
For the very blood in my veins knows

That pain is empathy and strength and compassion
and travesty is a breaker of the body but a healer of the soul
it will shake you, and mould you to the point that
even your insides are made of more
than Demeter’s simple building blocks

Anguish unites but brokenness divides
Because no ounce of happiness will ever
undermine the prevail or content
of the injured whose wounds will not be licked.

Breakthrough.

“At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey”

-Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events

For the rainy days.

And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, or how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

— Haruki Murakam

Eden.

I awoke in a haze of sea green eyes of my salvation: my saving grace from a midst of unending despair.

You came down and rescued me from a world enshrouded in fear and loneliness and hopelessness. You picked me up and brushed off the dust and kissed where it hurt. You washed away the impurity and hate with the tender waves of mercy. You looked into dull and tarnished eyes let them rest until rejuvenation.

You turned the other cheek when the punches started to roll. You pardoned when untrue words were lashed and struck into your side. You rolled away the stone of a cynical and careless heart and shone in glory. You carried my pain and doubt and dissolved it before my very eyes. Unconditional love flowed from your veins into my eyes and resided in my heart.

You saw beauty in creation and took my hand and ran with me to a garden of fresh hope and frivolity. You taught me words of faith and love and hope and selflessness. You waited with saintly patience as my heart grew open to accommodate your inescapable effulgence and felt me blossom in your breath.

And we stood there in an unshakable embrace and watched with breathless gazes as heaven touched earth.

Battles, losses and hopes.

Charles Dickens opens his novel A Tale of Two Cities with the line “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times”. This couldn’t better describe the year 2013.

Sixteen days overdue, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling of reflecting the year of of broken heart strings, promises and relationships; the year of  wide eyed smiles, sweet smelling embraces and tear stained laughter. Two-thousand and thirteen truly was the most eclectic mixture of joy and pain and hopefulness.

What 2013 took away:

  1. My father.
  2. My Grandmother.
  3. The ability to believe in lukewarm relationships.
  4. Some much loved and comfortable friendships.
  5. Complete trust in everyone whom I met.
  6. Belief in my abilities.
  7. The living situation of a typical seventeen year old.
  8. My perception of people.
  9. Self esteem.
  10. My Grandmother’s health.
  11. Faith. In many instances.
  12. My mother’s happiness.

What 2013 gave:

  1. Clarity of what constitutes a healthy relationship.
  2. The ability to distinguish a true friend.
  3. A unfailing passion for writing.
  4. A wider vocabulary.
  5. Nights I wished that would never end.
  6. A driver’s license.
  7. Independence.
  8. Openness.
  9. Resilience.
  10. A first kiss.
  11. True belief in my own abilities.
  12. The AS level grades I dreamed of.
  13. A month long adventure in Africa.
  14. The belief to never settle.
  15. An interview at Cambridge University.
  16. An offer from the university I dreamed of  for several years.
  17. Hope.
  18. Joy.
  19. Forgiveness.
  20. Patience.
  21. A truly wonderful love.

What I wish for in 2014:

  1. A sustained belief in the fact that I will achieve my dreams.
  2. The ability to keep going, rather than wish for the end.
  3. For an constant passion to continue writing.
  4. The fixing of several friendships.
  5. A wonderful end to my final school year.
  6. The confidence to know I can love without fear.
  7. Never to forget my friends.
  8. To show my mother my appreciation.
  9. Humility.
  10. Fearlessness for when I move out.
  11. To smile every day.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

-Charles Dickens.

Mapped.

It’s almost as if the stars slowly pin-pointed their constellations to this.

It’s as if every tiny decision made; every question asked; every struggle faced all pointed towards this. Like my own labyrinth in Plato’s cave, it wasn’t until I reached this opening when I realised that I was actually heading for something. Because if you had told me this destination seven years ago, or even three months ago, I would never have believed it. I never thought I was good enough. To be honest, I still question it every day.

I’m not one to believe in fate, but I wholeheartedly believe everything before this has been mere preparation for something bigger: that every time I wanted to give up, that every time I almost succumbed to the easy option and those times where I thought I just wouldn’t be able to do it, were not in vain. They slowly and quietly led to me to an opportunity: to this old brick road and this towering building before me. Every labour, every pushed limit, every breathless cheer were mere steps to give me the strength to get here.

I’ll open these centuries-old gates and tread those paths so many before me have laid their footprints. I’ll fight: I’ll fight for everything that has allowed me to be sitting in this history-laden room and prove to myself that I am good enough; that I was always good enough. I’ll continue to test those limits, to strive and keep striving until there is no horizon left to capture.

I may not have been able to call you up and tell you where I’m going  any more, but I know you’ll be there too. You always had some preconceived idea I’d wind up somewhere like this.

And chances are that this may not work out; maybe this isn’t actually where I’m headed, but yet another prolonged dead-end. But that’s fine. I’ll try my hardest anyway. Because I’ll make my way out of this labyrinth one day, and I know that I’ll do you proud no matter where it leads me.

Crumble.

I was never the kind of girl to let the past dictate my present, so I refuse to let your ghost jeopardise what is in front of me.

Because lately I’ve been walking down dark corridors, wondering whether I dare muster the courage to open yet another door. I’m being confronted with the same towering exit as before, and I don’t know whether I can risk facing the same fate  if I unbolt that lock.
Because you burned bridges for me. You built walls without my input, invisible to me until I realised some people just couldn’t pass through. Though we have not spoken, and probably will not speak, your sickly spirit dwells in every crack and crevice of every relationship. Those faded grey eyes streak every touch, and that faint caterwauling of your voice still whispers in my ear.
“He’s just like me. He’s holding you just like I did. He will do the same as me.”

I’m haunted, and in dire need of an exorcism. Because no matter how many times I embrace the calmness in the emerald of your eyes, I fear they may suddenly grey. I’m scared your clumsy mumble will stiffen and shriek. I’m scared I’ll open that door and fall into yet another chasm of betrayal and false hope, even though I know that you are safe.
Though I am certain that you are in no way like him, I can’t shake the clenching fear that you could one day change, just like he did.

Because all it takes is a flicker of light, a change in the weather, a drop in the ocean, for a person to change. All it takes is a step too far; a barrier too close to be broken for the light to burn out and fade. A fair face can just as easily become a scowl.
But I trust in you, and I trust your words. I will believe sense over zealous sensibility and refuse to let a sob story eradicate a happy ending. I will never stop saying it: you are worth it.

As the key fits into the lock, I prepare myself not for the worst, but the very best that I know you are.

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