There is a silence within: a silence more apparent, more real than before. The voices of sadness, of defeat, of condemnation whisper only on occasion and only through a fog. They’ve been replaced with stillness.
The calm is at once uncomfortable and comforting and being just on the other side of the storm, of the wreck, I’ve been thrown onto the beach and the sun is warming my tattered heart. The dark and menacing clouds can still be seen on the distant horizon, but only if I look very hard. Instead, I’m choosing to look away. I need no reminder of what has passed. The hurt runs deep and I’m still bleeding.
As I lay, weary from the ocean of tears, I see the billowing, cotton ball clouds suspended beautifully in the blue sky. The water laps, soothes, calms, and fleetingly I feel loneliness. God is perched on His throne as a witness to my struggle. He rescued me from a lifetime of despair, searing my wounded heart with an overflow of love and forgiveness and because of this measure of forgiveness and grace, I can breathe without struggling.
But it wasn’t my hearts response to forgive and show mercy, but a miraculous twist in my soul. And here is the morning, the clear sky and Joy has returned, not all at once but in small sips- as if I’m holding my morning coffee, scalding, scorching, and I must drink slowly. The warmth creeps to my chest, my thighs, my toes and fingers.
As I rest beside the cool water, feeling the breeze lift my hair and caress my skin, my eyes close and a vision is before me.
Peace.
Exhale.
Love.
Inhale.
Joy.
Exhale.
Communion.
Inhale.
Two of us are here. The Spirit is here.
He knows. He hears. He intercedes.
The secrets.
The fears.
I groan.
He groans.
It’s a heavenly language.
He carries and I’m free to take another step.
For if my fears are only mine and no Helper is given who knows and mediates, I would surely be crushed. My hours, my days, my life would be stolen just to serve my burdens, paralyzed to the beauty of the blue skies ahead. To life.
Secrets stop me.
My arm tingles and my right hand burns when I think on the storm behind me. I have to stop walking. If I am lying down, I must curl in around myself to keep the physical pain from taking me.
It’s too much.
But in my vision, the beautiful one gently touches my cheek. He whispers to me in words I can’t understand, but the words are like listening to the ocean inside a seashell, and complete rest is mine. The whisper is warm in ear and I smile. My soul receives the good news from the Spirit, news of healing, of knowing, and I sleep in darkness.
Deep.
Silence.
The tide moves in, called by the Moon, and I’m baptized by the surf.
I’m awake. And He’s still there.
My dream of hooping with a community has finally come true. After filling orders for 52 hoops, I now have friends who hoop.
