I have a confession to make, my dear readers. I have not been doing well, recently. Not been doing well at all.
And it's easy, you know, to smile and say I'm fine. To laugh and pretend part of me isn't slowly dying.
I've been doing that for years. Learning how to perfect that mask of joy in times of exhaustion and sorrow.
But, you know, nothing's perfect and that mask... it hasn't been used in a while and so now it's cracking and my words are hurting the people I care about all because I've been refusing to take that mask off.
I've been refusing to acknowledge just how overwhelmed and bone weary I am. Been refusing to take the time to sit in God's presence and just breath His Grace because I don't want to slow down enough to really think.
And I don't want to think about the fact that I graduate in a week's time. Or that a few days later one of my beloved sisters celebrates sweet 16. Or that one of my friends is hurting and there is nothing I can do. Or that I'm about to say good-bye to people I've come to love as dearly as though they were family.
I'm not ready to say good-bye.
I'm not ready to let go of things.
And time is flowing so fast that it feels like a mere blink of the eye will see my baby sister graduating. Friends marrying. Parents dying.
And I wish I'd taken the more time to tell those stories, to make memories, to laugh, to smile.
I wish I'd spent more time just being and less time trying to run away from everyone and everything.
I wish I'd learnt sooner how to role with the punches and let the hits slide off. I wish I'd learnt sooner that breathing in Grace and breathing out Thanksgiving is the only way to live.
And I wish I could do that constantly.
I wish I knew how to love my friends even when I felt like hiding.
I wish I had slapped and snapped at my sisters less and had baked them more cakes and brownies and cookies just because I could. Just because they are my sisters and they are such a blessing.
And I wish I had cooked dinner more and learnt how to keep my room from being messy.
I wish I had spent more time with my dad and listened more to my baby sister's chatter.
So many things I wish I had done.
And how often does one wish they could go back to their nursery days? Go back to when times were simpler? I wish I could go back. Not just because they were simpler times, but because then I could do it all over. There are so many things I wouldn't do again, and so many things I would do if I could.
And I wish I could see that broken, little girl who made herself as small as possible in her school library, whose closest friends were Harry Potter and Frodo Baggins and the Secret Seven and the Famous Five and the people of Narnia. Whose wish was to find a rabbit hole and go to Wonderland and be loved and admired. Who wanted to slay dragons and be princess in a palace with golden hair and blue eyes. Who dreamt of adventure and shooting arrows from horseback and exploring the grounds of Lothlorien with Legolas as her guide. Who wanted to walk among the stars with Mary Poppins and fly over mountaintops. The girl who dreamt of meeting Prince Charming and wearing beautiful dresses. That little girl whose life was made of stories because there she was safe, there she could not be touched by those who sought to hurt her.
I wish I could see her and hug her and whisper into her ear another story. Her story.
I wish I could tell her that she will face dragons and kill some, but not others. That she will lose everything and gain everything. That whilst her hair may never been gold and her eyes never blue, her brown hair and eyes were still beautiful. And I don't know if they are captivating in way she dreams they would be, soft and gentle, but they have their own charm. I would tell her that she will make friends who would fight for her whatever the cost to themselves. I would tell her that her that she will love and she will lose and she will learn and she will fall and she will run and she will stand and she will kneel and she will cry and she will never give up because her prince fight s with her.
And I would tell her that her prince Charming is already there. That He already walks beside her and calls to her. That over the years He will woo her and save her and catch her like Superman catches Lois Lane. I would tell her that he Prince Charming died for her and lives for her and that He never wants her to be alone. I would tell her that yes, her head knows this but her heart hasn't fully grasped it and I know that for sure because mine still struggles with it. I will tell her that He thinks her Priceless and Beautiful and He will always provide her with the Strength and the Grace to get back to her feet and keep on going when all she wants to do is die, when all she can see is pain. And I would tell her that she would fight that Love and reject that Grace because it's just too big for her, she can't understand it and that that fight will hurt her more than anything else.
And I would tell her to stop running. To stop hiding. To stop fearing. Because she is only going to regret it. I would tell her to that she has been listening to lies and that really, she doesn't need books to live adventure: her whole life is one big adventure.
I would ask her to throw herself into it fearlessly and not care about the laughter that is directed at her, because that is laughter full of malice and it will only end up choked off while she learns to laugh a laugh full of joy and love.
And I wish I could tell her what mistakes to avoid whilst still loving everyone fully and whole-heartedly. I wish I could show her that nothing is more wonderful than a heart soaked in God's love and ask that she start working on it sooner so that this heart could be less ugly.
And I wish I could tell her to never leave her friends, to hold onto them and love them as a sister no matter how much they sunk knives into her just because they were hurting themselves. Just because they don't know love.
I wish I could tell her to give and to give and not let anyone take her apart.
I wish I could tell her to cook more and not be afraid to burn things. To paint more and not be afraid of the fact that it is going to be terribly. To write more, and write solely for the pleasure of God.
But time doesn't allow u-turns. It doesn't allow do-overs and start from the beginnings. Only games do. And life is no game.
But Grace does. Grace lets us take broken lives and build them afresh, because it's not us doing the building, it's God.
Grace lets us strip of our happy masks and let the world see everything underneath. Because through Grace, there is Joy in even the saddest and roughest heart, Through Grace, there is a Laughter that bubbles in the Soul even when the eyes weep endlessly. Through Grace, there is a Peace in the middle of turmoil.
Through Grace, there is also a chance to Heal those careless wounds inflicted by ones words.
And through Grace, the unready still make it through alive.
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