Tuesday January 18, 2011
I’ve been in this place before. I recognize it.
The bars of my own making, reinforced by my friends’ good intentions and what I watched my mom do.
It looks like a good place. The neon outside screams, “Come on in here and everything will be fine.”
I’m propelled forward by well-wishers (and a few know-it-alls). Their words sound reassuring: “This worked for me and all my friends.” “The baby will sleep all night if you do.” “It’s the only way you’ll get any rest … or be happy …or keep your marriage strong … or –“
I look up, and the roar subsides. I see a sliver of light, but two barriers keep the sun from washing over me.
The first is crafted of expectation. The hurdle hangs there, blocking the light. I look closely at it and it looks familiar. It’s fashioned from materials that have my initials on them. There’s a friend’s name, too, and that of another acquaintance. The blockade is well-made and lovely, formed of good intentions, but regardless, it’s blocking the light.
I catch a glimpse of the second barrier, just beyond, made of mirrors. It’s emblazoned with an image of … me? I squint and, with a shake of my head, realize it is me, but the image is distorted. I search for the light and feel its warmth on my face. That warmth echoes back to the mirror, and the image changes. The sun on my face shows an image that is true. Real.
I close my eyes, reveling in the sun. A thunderous crash startles me, but I’m not afraid. The barriers are gone. There are no more bars.
I step forward with the Son on my face. And by my side.
I’ve been in this place before. I recognize it.
The bars of my own making, reinforced by my friends’ good intentions and what I watched my mom do.
It looks like a good place. The neon outside screams, “Come on in here and everything will be fine.”
I’m propelled forward by well-wishers (and a few know-it-alls). Their words sound reassuring: “This worked for me and all my friends.” “The baby will sleep all night if you do.” “It’s the only way you’ll get any rest … or be happy …or keep your marriage strong … or –“
I look up, and the roar subsides. I see a sliver of light, but two barriers keep the sun from washing over me.
The first is crafted of expectation. The hurdle hangs there, blocking the light. I look closely at it and it looks familiar. It’s fashioned from materials that have my initials on them. There’s a friend’s name, too, and that of another acquaintance. The blockade is well-made and lovely, formed of good intentions, but regardless, it’s blocking the light.
I catch a glimpse of the second barrier, just beyond, made of mirrors. It’s emblazoned with an image of … me? I squint and, with a shake of my head, realize it is me, but the image is distorted. I search for the light and feel its warmth on my face. That warmth echoes back to the mirror, and the image changes. The sun on my face shows an image that is true. Real.
I close my eyes, reveling in the sun. A thunderous crash startles me, but I’m not afraid. The barriers are gone. There are no more bars.
I step forward with the Son on my face. And by my side.
Yesterday I wrote about expectations, and today I'm waxing poetic about them.
Linking up today with On, In and Around Mondays and Soli Deo Gloria.
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7 comments:
I suppose it's our collective human condition that blocks His light, right? I'm forever letting "something" get in the way, but i know it's still beaming, waiting for me.
I went back and read yesterday's post, too. I think I've hung my self worth on expectations so many times. And now, I'm putting these words in conjunction with Courtney's about the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. And I wonder, if I was not so trapped in expectations, might there be more room in my heart for things of God?
So much to think about!
Wow, beautiful! And 4 boys!! Wow to that too! :)
Ahhem. Do I hear the next book in this? If you don't, you should.
Beautiful!
M.
Wax on, dear friend.
Wow, simply beautiful. I really love this.
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