An Old Familiar Fear

"Are you here, God?"

"Yes, child, I am here."

"How did I find myself again in this dark wood? I thought it was not the season for it."

"It is not. It is supposed to be the season of all-things-restored, not old dark paths again."

"Then how is it I find myself here? It is a grievous place."

"You were led here, child."

"By you?"

"No, not by me . . . It was an old familiar fear that led you here, led you into loss. And you listened to its voice, dear one."

"I did listen, didn't I? I did not mean to! I tried so hard to stop my ears and push its voice away. But it overwhelmed me, and now I find myself in this dark wood again! . . . Oh, Papa God, what now?"

"I think that it is time to go after that old familiar fear, don't you?"

"Yes. With all my heart I wish to run it through and NEVER hear its voice again!"

"Exactly what I was thinking . . . do not worry; I will lead you out of here and you will not return again . . . but first, let's begin the chase!"

Artwork: standing alone in the woods, unknown

Fearless

I saw that you were brave. I saw you open up your heart to love again. And I am proud of you, my warrior child. You dared to step into that place that you most feared - that place of trusting in another. You are fearless, dear one! and you do not even know it; for all you see is that moment that the fear took over . . . but that is not what I see.

I see my warrior child brave and bold, daring to love again, daring to trust when every man she's ever known has walked away. I see my warrior child standing in the face of her own storm, facing down the wind that blows, and fighting hard to keep on standing. I see a heart that others do not see, and I know the courage that it took to care, though now she stands alone again - I am here.

Look up at me, my warrior child. I never leave . . . and the courage you now need to heal and in the future, trust again, shall come from me.

Artwork: Set Me Free by unknown

Upon the Wheel

He calls me Lovely.

He calls me "fashioned from His heart."

And yet I can see the flaws. I can see the imperfections that need another turn upon the wheel. But when He looks at me, He sees the finished work. He sees what I'll become.

So I will stay within His hand and let Him mold me as He wishes. He is an artist, after all . . . and He is faithful to keep molding, changing, gently healing from the inside out until I'm whole.

Artwork: In the Potter's Hand (c) Marybeth Stafford
http://www.marybethart.com/

On That Cliff's Edge

No fear, dear one? Not anymore? And yet, nothing has changed - you are still on that cliff's edge, just as near to falling as you were before; and still there lies a precipice below and nothing but thin air in front. So good to see you figured it out.

It took awhile, but somewhere between the shudderings and leaf-like quakings and startled-eyed glances over the rim and down . . . somewhere in the middle of it all you lifted up your head. And He who made you, made that cliff, and made your path lead to its edge, was waiting for that moment all along.

This is how rays of hope come!

Artwork: Mary's Hope © Duncan Long

http://duncanlong.com/ 

Far Bigger Still

"This big?"
"No, far bigger."
"THIS BIG?"
"Oh, no, far bigger still. Your arms could not spread wide enough to reach the largeness of the dreams He has for you."
"Really? - What if I stretched my arms to touch the mountains?"
"It still could never be wild enough or big enough or difficult enough to exhaust His ability."
"And He truly wants me to dream that big? Don't I need to fear dreaming too big?"
"Hahahahahahahaha . . . no human has ever dreamt TOO big for God! Child, dream large . . . larger still . . . larger than you ever dared. He likes it, you know."
"He does?"
"Oh, yes, He gets quite a kick out of His children who believe hugely. You could never ask or think bigger than He can do. So few even try, though."
"Then I shall be one who tries!"

Photograph: child laughing,  unknown

Sleep For Now

I am praying for you strong one, little warrior one. I am praying that you make it all the way into this wide, strange world . . . safe. I am hoping that you will learn to sing your song and follow the beat of your own drummer. I am hoping beyond hope that you will not become a stat . . . a cold statistic, one of millions, of all the little warriors who did not win their fight.

Shh, sleep for now and do not worry your sweet heart about it - for I am praying for you. Tens of thousands of us are. We will not stop our speaking, writing, praying, standing along sidewalks on cold mornings hoping to help all those mothers-dear who do not know they have a little warrior down inside them.

Photograph: Fetus in womb, unknown

They Think Themselves a Giant

They think themselves a giant. They think that you are small. They think that they will feed you to the birds - or ruin you with rockets.

They brag of your demise, believing that their sword is very large and stronger than your pebbles. They taunt and roar with much ado and drama (because the world is watching, don't you know, and Hamas must keep it watching.)

It is not the first time, dear Israel, that you faced a giant . . . and we all know how that story ended.

Artwork: David and Goliath by unknown